Chapter IX

Clear, cold water ran over her hands, making Jane shiver as she stared at the whirlpool above the drain. She hadn't slept for almost two days now, the bin next to her was filled with bloody gloves, and one-time tools. Jane was back on Adrastos, treating the survivors of the Team; Nicomedo was still having his blood cleaned, and wouldn't be leaving the med bay for the next two hours, Seth had received some stitches and patches, just like Mandrake, who'd already returned to the Governor's Palace. Storm Trooper Marcus and Lucas were in a similar condition, while the third one Harris was still out, wounded while he along with Lord Nadim and Pericles had provided the distraction; he would make it through as well. Taylor was in a similar, yet worse condition: dialysis was cleaning his blood from poison, while he simultaneously received four transfusions; something in the alien saliva was inhibiting the blood clotting. In the lab, Tech Priest Cicero was constructing a surrogate leg for him. Jane had already removed his destroyed one, and now looked over to the cooled room, where they kept the bodies of any Storm Trooper they'd been able to recover so far. Emperor, how much she hated autopsies.

In a separate room, Apothecary Seneca was tending to the Astartes. Three had died already; after the Magus' defeat, Lord Quintus had taken the elevator back to the nest, while the rest of them had been waiting for extraction, and recovered Tullius' body. He was lucky not to have been attacked, and his fellow Astartes had been less than pleased with his action. All four who lived would be ready to stand against the Tyranid Fleet, once it arrived.

Jane sat down at her desk, trying to ignore the data-slates lying on top, not feeling in the mood and lacking the proper concentration to fill in the reports. Who knew how long she sat there, just drifting into sleep, when the door opened, and Seth came in. In his hands he was holding two steaming mugs, and he sat down across from her.

"You should get yourself some sleep." He noted, putting one mug in front of her.

"And that's why you've brought me caffeine?"

"Actually it's tea." Seth corrected her, puffing away the steam of his drink.

She took the mug, the warm ceramic warming her hands comfortably. "Oh,...thanks." It was a bit meekly, but the man nodded, gazing into space. Jane carefully took a sip, still burning the tip of her tongue.

"So." Seth began after a short while. "How's Taylor?"

"Unconscious, and there is still plenty of poison in his blood, or what's left of it. I have servitors watching constantly over him." She looked up at her fellow Acolyte. "If he makes it through tonight, he survives."

He nodded, clearly relieved by this news, the tension in his body language easing. Seth had changed his clothing into something Jane could only describe as an olive green jogging suit, which had been patched several times, just like its owner. At least he had gotten some sleep; the only dark ring around his left eye was from a cut she'd stitched earlier. "Good news; I'd hate to put yet another name on the Wall."

Jane bit her lower lip. "Me too." The Wall was a white marble block, shaped into the two-headed eagle, standing in Nicomedo's garden, at the house the Inquisitor owned on Ibelin. All names of his fallen Acolytes were engraved there, and almost every time they got back there, a new name would be added. This time, if they made it back, Lucien Brennan would join the list on its wings.

In the following moments of silence, Seth let his eyes wander from the door leading to the patients' room back to the medicae. "You should get some sleep; I'm sure the servitors will inform you of anything that'll happen here."

"I didn't feel like I could leave them alone." She admitted, though Jane couldn't think of a reasonable explanation why; it was just a stupid feeling.

"You'd feel better if I stayed here?"

Jane shook her head. "No, but thanks for the offer." Her fingers ran over closed eyelids. "Dear Lord, I'm tired."

"Then get moving: in this state you're no help to anyone." Seth said, nodding toward the exit, right before finishing his mug.

There was no arguing, and Jane stood up, leaving still steaming tea behind. "Right; good night, Seth." With slow steps she headed for the door, while Seth bid her goodnight.

Candles lit the Adrastos' small, white, ceiling painted blue chapel, their light reflected by the stain glass windows, showing saints of the Imperium, and just behind an altar the Emperor himself. Cyrus quietly muttered his prayers in front of it, down on one knee, hands folded upon another. As Nadim was repairing their armors, he was currently dressed in simply robes, and Apothecary Seneca had already taken care of his comparatively minor injuries, still several scars would remain, especially along his arms. Those however weren't his concern in the slightest, but the experience with the Magus.

Like any Astartes he was used to injury, he knew well to avoid it, and so despite centuries of service never had required further augmentation beyond his Gene-Seed Implants. He remembered a brother from the Iron Hands scoff about this, advising Cyrus to have his limbs replaced by bionics; however to deliberately remove one's own arms and legs seemed excessive, and in the long run unnecessary.

With the Magus' assault it was different, no physical wound to mend, only knowledge of his own sudden vulnerability to a powerful psyker, and the doubt coming along for the ride. The Inquisitor had assured him that his mind was not corrupted that the xeno's influence was physical only, but he could still feel some kind of resonance, lingering in the back of his head, like a bad taste on his tongue. Focusing his mind on the prayers helped, and so he'd spent over and hour now in the chapel.

The silence was suddenly disturbed when the door was thrown open, the sudden draft killing the nearest candles. "Asking for forgiveness?" Quintus. Cyrus didn't respond, simply ground his teeth with a touch of annoyance, and made no visible sign that he'd even acknowledged the Red Scorpion's presence.

Steps came closer. "The Inquisitor trusts you still, and so do our brothers." He stopped next to the Blood Raven. "I don't, and honestly I always had my doubts; flawed Gene-Seed, theft from other chapters…probably enough to damn you." Quintus spoke slowly, with clear threat in his voice, but the Raven was unimpressed. "If any of your actions just hint at your corruption, you can be sure I'll be there to take care of it."

Still, Cyrus gave no reply, having begun another prayer. It clearly annoyed Quintus who growled in anger, but then turned around and left, closing the door behind him just as loud and demonstrative as he had opened it. Cyrus interrupted his reciting and stood up, blood rushing back into his leg, leaving a slight tingling sensation. He stepped over to the dead candles, and picked up one of the matches. As he lighted the candles once again, he continued the Declaration of Faith.

"My Emperor, judge me whole: Find me well within Your grace Touch me with fire that I be cleansed…"

"I trust the Governor will be more cooperative, after we have saved his life."

Apothecary Seneca and Inquisitor Nicomedo walked together, heading for the hangar. Despite not being in armor, the Astartes was quite a bit taller and broader built than Nicomedo, which especially showed in the confinement of the Adrastos' corridors. Seneca was only a few centimeters short of having to tilt his head away from the ceiling. The Inquisitor nodded. "Yes, I hope he'll be most forthcoming in the following days, still." He stopped in his tracks, looking up at the Ultramarine, running a hand over his chin and mouth. "The Genestealers had the number to utterly destroy us. I can't stop ask myself, why they did not. All I have to offer as an explanation are suspicions."

"Share them, Inquisitor." Seneca encouraged him. "The Inquisition will probably want a statement on the matter as well, with all the destruction suffered by this world, and the loss of our brothers and comrades."

His expression darkened. "I have heard the reports of the Astrophats: we've lost contact with the neighboring sector through some disturbance, which they called a shadow across the warp. It would seem the Hive Fleet is already on route to this world, and if the Brood was aware of this, I imagine their priority was to weaken the infrastructure. Under the direct influence of the Fleet, self-preservation is redundant; they were sacrificed to ensure the Tyranid's survival as a whole."

"A reasonable enough assumption." Seneca started walking again, along with the Inquisitor, who felt still weakened and struggled to keep up, though the Apothecary was already walking rather slowly.

The next few minutes they spent in silence, before slowly, and with some uncertainty in his voice, Nicomedo raised a question. He'd been asking himself this, ever since they'd detected the shadow across the warp, and while he did his best to inspire faith, he himself was not free of doubts. Who better to turn to than a Space Marine, especially an Ultramarine in this situation. "Lord Seneca, I must ask one thing: do you believe we can win against the coming Hive Fleet?" Apothecary Seneca had fought when the Behemoth attack Macragge; who better to access the coming war?

Seneca took his time, only answering once they reached the hangar doors. "Our chances are slim at best. It will all depend on the size of the Hive Fleet and whether our Fleet will reach us in time to assist us, and even then…Inquisitor, you must accept that we are most likely going to lose this war, and the only thing we can truly do is to kill as many aliens as we can, weaken the Fleet as severely as possible, so that no other world will be devoured by them."

With a deep breath and some dry humored words, Nicomedo tried to hide his strain. "Well, at least I won't have to explain anything to my superiors anymore."

The Apothecary frowned, however didn't say anything, only bid his farewell to Nicomedo, who was about to return to the Governor's palace.

The light bulbs hummed peacefully, and too bright. His hand wandered over his face, down to his chin, running over a stubbly beard. Seemed he have slept quite a while. "Morning." A familiar voice welcomed him, tearing down any remnants of sleep. "You've been keeping things exciting for me. I was looking forward to some resolution."

Taylor grinned, eyes narrowly open. "Jane; is it just me or are we having a déjà vu." After all, this was pretty much how they'd first met. He looked around, finding himself on the med bay, in one of its ten beds, five at each wall. While the light here was relatively dim, the white painted walls reflected it countless times, making the room all the brighter.

"Almost, but this time you're sharing the room." With a nod Jane pointed out another man two beds father, one of the Storm Troopers, who was apparently still asleep.

"How long exactly was I out?"

"About three days, just enough time to fix you up." While she said it, the Medicae knocked her fingers against one of his legs. He didn't feel it.

Taylor caught a glance at her compassionate look, as he sat up and stared down at his legs. The right lower leg and foot was now made of cold metal, shimmering silver, red and blue cables visible through small gaps in the construction. It was actually an elegant piece of work, formed like an actual human leg, but Taylor could only look at it with some disbelieve; his first lost limb in the line of duty. He'd always known something like this would happen, though now…

"You're alright?"

"What? ...Oh yes, sure. I think I suspected it to hurt more, to feel…I don't know, foreign, strange but everything from the knee feels like it's not even there."

"We'll modify it with a few sensors, but that has time until tomorrow. First you should eat; hope you're hungry." She turned to get a tray closer to his bed.

"After three days asleep? You really need to ask?" He found the remote-control for his bed and with a push on the button, Taylor prop up his bed's back rest, and brought himself into a more comfortable position. "Mind if we remove this?" He pointed at a transfusion going into his arm.

"Not a problem; your blood his cleaned by now."

Taylor watched her as Jane pulled the needle out of his arm, finally remembering something else. "How are the others; they're alright?"

"Seth's alright, Nicomedo and Mandrake are fine as well, and have gone back to the palace, probably to discuss the coming invasion…"

"So the Tyranids are coming."

Suddenly Jane looked shocked. "I'm sorry; I forgot you couldn't know about this." She patched up the small wound before continuing, her body tense. "We've lost contact with the neighboring sector, so now everyone is preparing planetary forces for battle, and messages have been sent out to get us some reinforcements."

"You're afraid." It wasn't a question, but an assessment.

She looked back up again, a mixture of annoyance, anger and confusion in her expression. "Of course I am. Millions of aliens come to devour everything on this planet. Three Astartes and most of the Storm Troopers have already fallen." Her hands ran through her hair. "This is no longer one of our low-profile missions. There is going to be a war; and not even Nicomedo knows if we can win it."

"Hadn't had that since Petra." Their first mission together, the mission for which Nicomedo had originally recruited them for.

Jane shook her head. "There we had the possibility to leave, and Eldar faced Necron in battle. Here it's going to be on an Imperial world, and we'll fight among its citizens."

To her obvious surprise, Taylor smiled tired but kindly at her. "And as always you think too much. You're too concerned; there is absolutely nothing we can do about it, other than to fight when the time comes."

"Easy for someone to say, who is incapable of feeling fear." She growled back, and sighed. "Why do I always seem to get a headache, when talking to you?"

"It's just my charm…or the thing that I have no soul; pick whichever you like best."

His words were met by an awkward chuckle from them both, and he finally began to eat, what appeared to be some sort of vegetable soup. Jane monitored him for a while, before leaving to check on her other patient. While eating, Taylor continued to watch her; just because he couldn't feel fear, didn't mean he wasn't concerned, at least for his friends' lives.

Nicomedo was dressed in his formal armor, gold, adored with imperial iconography, and purity seals. Over his back and shoulders hung a magenta mantle, both sword and Bolt Pistol carried in plain sight. His Interrogator stood beside him, in a sober black suit, both waiting for the Lord Governor of the Victoria Sector in his study. Unlike most of the palace this place was not only unharmed, but was not made of white stone and marble, instead the bookshelf-covered walls were cased with dark wood, as well as the ceiling and floor. In addition, the ceiling pieces were adorned with carvings of mystical figures and sigils, while a white fur covered most of the floor.

Two guards stood at the door, leading to the hallway from which the Inquisitor had come. Outside medicae Jane was waiting. It wasn't necessary for her to stand guard, more a natural precaution, plus she later would meet with the Orders Hospitaller. Nicomedo's eyes wandered over the massive desk in front of them, which except for a few data-slates, and a flask of some alcoholic beverage was bare. Behind the throne-like chair was a tall window, at this point showing a beautiful cloud-free sky, with several ships of the Imperial Navy patrolling over the planet.

Finally the second door, left of the desk, opened, and Captain Pericles entered, followed by Governor Elias Lazzaro. Both seemed to have recovered from the ordeals three days ago, Pericles even seemed delighted about meeting the Inquisitor again, where as Governor Lazzaro expression was grim, with a hint of fear. His face was unusually pale, dark rings were around his eyes. Today he was without his curly wig, showing that he in fact had short blond hair, which was already turning white, and wore a suit in the dark blue color of his house.

The Governor made the Sign of the Aquila, head bowed respectfully. Nicomedo and Mandrake returned the gesture, though the Inquisitor did not bow. "My Lord Inquisitor." Governor Lazzaro welcomed him. "Thank you for meeting me before session. Captain Pericles that would be all, please escort medicae Pravin to the Canoness."

Pericles saluted, his eyes narrowed, obviously disgruntled. Quite frankly he'd looked like this since his entry. Without a word the Guard Captain left, though he shortly paused to give Nicomedo a rather appreciative nod. Only after the door had closed again the Governor continued, having sat down in his chair behind the desk, his grey eyes studying Nicomedo, while his fingers were constantly moving, tapping upon the back of his other hand; the Inquisitor attributed it to nervousness, along with the single drop of sweat at his hair line. "Inquisitor Nicomedo, I am grateful for your rescue three days ago, but as I have told your Interrogator, I'm displeased that I was not informed about the alien threat on my world, or even the possibility that they could have infiltrated my most trusted Guard. As you undoubtedly know, the Underhive is in peril, as Planetary Defense Forces and Guardsmen cleanse them from the remaining aggressors, riots become a growing problem. In short: it's war down there."

"As I have heard, the soldiers are killing everyone down there." Nicomedo noted dryly.

"Well, we don't have the time to test who is infected. The sisters of the Order Hospitaller are already checking every patient in their care, handing out their sigil to mark uninfected citizens, but giving our population it is impossible to check everyone."

While Nicomedo mourned the loss of so many innocent, he knew it was probably the only way to ensure, Victoria Primus would never suffer an infestation again. Certainly, it was cruel, but maybe preferable to the gruesome deaths they'd suffer once the Hive Fleet came here. The Underhive would not be defended in the coming conflict, and so the Tyranids would claim their first victims there. To the mutants and heretics down there, Nicomedo barley wasted a thought.

"Now, 20% of our Fleet have already been destroyed, another 46% is still being repaired, of which 15% will not be ready for battle before the Hive Fleet is here. PDF is down 49% so far, Emperor knows how many will die in the next days, and Imperial Guard has lost 31%." Governor Lazzaro sighed, filling a glass on his desk with a drink. He played with it between his hands for a while, watching the liquid swash back and forth, and for some reason Nicomedo found himself doing the same, just for a few seconds. "Our defenses are devastated, and we're drafting as many men and women as we can muster. What I like to know is: can we survive."

It was now the Inquisitor turn to sigh. Hadn't he just asked Apothecary Seneca the same thing? Now it was on him to show strength. "We can, but it will all depend on how well we defend this world, or should I say, where we concentrate our defenses? I am confident the fleet I demanded will show up in time to assist us, and while Tyranids are a terrifying enemy, they are not unbeatable. Countless will die, but Victoria Primus can survive."

The Governor seemed slightly relieved by these words. "Good, I needed to hear that. I hope, Milord, that you have some experience in organizing a planetary defense."

Hope, Nicomedo thought quietly to himself, is the first step on the path to disappointment.

With the Inquisitor and Mandrake inside, Jane waited outside the study. She wasn't alone though; four guards stood watch, in full garments, just like the night of the Genestealer attack. About a quarter of an hour passed before the study's door opened again, though instead of Nicomedo, Captain Pericles came out. He was like his men in full armor, minus the helmet. Only a few well healed cut on his face remained from the fighting a few nights ago. His dire mood seemed to lighten somewhat, when he saw her. "Medicae Pravin. It's a pleasure seeing you again."

"The feeling mutual, Captain." Jane said with a salutatory nod and a smile on her lips. "It is good to see the palace back in working order."

"Yes, I'm afraid though that worst times are still ahead of us. I assume that is why you're meeting with the Canoness Superior." With a simple gesture he beckoned her to come with him. "The Governor has asked me to bring you to her."

"Thank you. May I ask you something?"

"You just did." He pointed out. "But please, go ahead."

"I was interested to know how you came to join the Governor's Guard. Acolytes are usually chosen by our deeds, by our previous training; when I took care of that wound on your arm, I saw a typical Guardsmen tattoo." They wandered through a hall, which was still being repaired by a good dozen of workers, and where they had finished, artists restored paintings and mosaics. Their work seemed pointless to Jane, seeing as the Tyranids would soon destroy it again, but maybe it was just to keep to illusion of having everything under control.

Pericles watched them work before he answered her question. "I indeed have been with the Imperial Guard for several years. Two decades ago, I fought in a campaign against the Orcs, which were raiding a neighboring sector, and Governor Lazzaro was at that time also serving his time in the Guard, as most from the Noble houses do here; you could say it's a tradition. Anyway, during the final battle I was able to save the Lord's life, which he never forgot. Upon our return to Victoria Primus he offered me a place in his house's Guard, and when he became Governor two years later, brought me along. Some were envious, or at least displeased with my quick rise through the ranks, and I'm afraid the Genestealer attack has not helped things."

"And Governor Lazzaro?"

"He is…disappointed." Captain Pericles replied, choosing his words carefully. "He believes I've neglected my duties, and therefore allowed the Palace Guard to be infiltrated."

"But not even the infected knew until the attack that they were sleeper agents."

"It matters little. We've lost more than half our numbers, and several Nobles have been killed, or were later executed; their deaths are partially my fault." Jane didn't respond, but felt sympathy for the Captain; from what she'd seen, he appeared capable enough, and even killed the second Magus himself. He stopped at an undecorated and rather inconspicuous door, compared to the rest on this level of the palace. "Now, we shouldn't keep the good Canoness waiting."

Victoria Primus had just recently lost her ability to communicate with other sectors; the Hive Fleet was very close by, first mutating plants had been spotted, and the Acolytes spoke of great tension among the planet's forces and leadership. In the armory, Cyrus was cleaning his weapons, just finishing up his sniper rifle. His eyes briefly wandered to the Plasma Pistol, which was next in line. Hate of the Xenos was a unique Plasma Pistol, and had once belonged to brother Trythios, the first Blood Raven to serve in the Deathwatch. Since that time, Hate of the Xenos had always accompanied any Blood Raven to serve the Ordo Xenos' Chamber Militant, the latest to carry it Devastator Sergeant Brin.

Cyrus looked up, as Nadim approached him, carrying the Blood Ravens repaired armor. "You know, if you didn't make that grim face all the time, I would have said Quintus paid you a visit." He put the armor next to him on the bench, and sat down himself adverse to his brother.

"As a matter of fact, he has." He put the sniper aside, to take a look at his armor. "Thank you for repairing it."

"Think nothing of it. So, what did our over-zealous brother say you?"

"He attempted to threaten me." Cyrus regarded his brother. "You too?"

Nadim shrugged indifferent. "He pointed out that my skin complexion is definitive proof of flaw and mutation in my chapter's gene-seed; shouldn't have expected anything else from a Red Scorpion. I pray that after this mission, I'm spared his company."

"I take it you intend to stay with the Deathwatch."

"Yes, and you, Cyrus?"

He set his armor aside, eyes briefly resting on his chapter's badge. "I'll request to return to my chapter. For two hundred years now, I have fought for the Ordo Xenos, against almost any form of alien that lurks out there. It is time I take my knowledge back home, before the end comes."

"Then with the Tyranids your list should be completed." Nadim was right; Orcs, Eldar from Craft- and Maiden World, their fallen kin, Tau and even Necrons. With the coming war, he would have been pitted against every major alien threat at least once in his line of duty. "I believe the Inquisitor will see your duty with the Deathwatch as fulfilled, so you better stay alive. Who knows, the day might come that your chapter benefits from your experience."

Cyrus gave him a dry smile, and turned to his shotgun.

pacem volo, bellum paro

It's peace I want, so I prepare for war