The light was too bright to see. It hurt her tummy. Then she was somewhere else, on a cool metal floor. Mummy was lying beside her, with her eyes closed like she was asleep. She felt tears and rubbed them away. Mr Morgan had told her to be brave. So she would be. Anyway the hurt was going away already.
She looked round from where she sat on the floor. They were in a big metal room, with lots of chairs. Really, really big chairs, all black leathery padding. All the chairs were in front of 'puter screens, some glowing, others not. There was a big set of doors on the right, and another smaller door behind them. In front of them was a huge window, and out of it she could see blackness, with little dots of light. It was a scary place, with a faint hum of machinery just loud enough to hear if you tried hard. A gold-coloured plate with writing on it was right in the centre of the floor, a few decems from them. She wished she was better at her letters so she could read it properly; the writing was funny.
She looked at mummy again, wondering if she should wake her up. No, she decided. Mr Morgan said mummy would be alright, so she would do what he said and be good. She nuggled down into mummy's warm mummy-ness and closed her eyes.
Sara woke to pain in her hand and back. She looked down at her sleeping daughter's head with a sense of relief. They were in some sort of control room, on a ship. Viewing windows showed what had to be the darkness of space. She wondered why there was no-one else around; surely Morgan wouldn't have come to the surface with all the crew? Maybe this was a secondary control centre or something. She felt suddenly tired again; the stuff Morgan had put on her hand and back must have some sort of sedative in it. She was too weak to worry about it, and just put her good arm around Janey before sleep claimed her again.
Janey woke slowly. She was lying on something hard. Oh. The floor of Mr Morgan's ship. She looked at mummy, who seemed to come awake at the movement. Her eyes opened and she smiled. Janey smiled back.
"Hi, mummy. Are you better?"
"Hi, darling. A bit, I think. Are you alright?"
She nodded. "I'm hungry. We missed dinner."
Mummy nodded. "So we did. Have you got our bags?"
She nodded yes. Mummy smiled and moved carefully to sit up, like her back hurt.
"Is it very sore, mummy?"
"It is, a bit. But it's better than it was. Pass me my bag, darling."
She did. Mummy opened the bag and took out a smaller bag and a big bottle. She smiled a proper mummy smile. "I thought we might be going a long way, so I packed some water and some sandwiches. I didn't think we'd be going this far, though."
"Have we gone far, mummy?" she asked, puzzled. They'd not seemed to move, just the bright light and the funny pain in her tummy, which was all gone now.
"I think we have, darling. We're up above the world now. That's space outside. Shall we have a proper look? Or do you want to eat first?"
She thought for a second, then her tummy rumbled. "Eat first."
Mummy smiled and gave her a san'wich. Cold mutton with mummy's chutney. She took a bite eagerly. They ate together, sharing the bottle of water. Mummy smiled at her again.
"Finished?"
She nodded, suddenly interested in looking out the big windows. Mummy stood, slowly, like she was stiff and took her hand. They walked across the metal floor and mummy helped her get up on a chair. Wow. It was all black except for a huge glowy circle just down and to the left, all blue and white and grey and green, and another slightly smaller one, all bright orange, up and to the right.
"That's the world, darling. That's Canth."
"Wow. What's the other one, mummy?"
"That's the sun, darling. That's the star the world goes round. Emory's Star."
"But isn't it bad to look at it?"
"Normally, yes. But these windows must have a filter, so the brightness doesn't hurt your eyes."
"Can we see the moons, mummy?"
"I don't think so. I don't see them anyway. They must be on the other side of the world."
"Will Mr Morgan let us see them?"
Mummy smiled. "I don't know. Perhaps if you ask very nicely, maybe."
She nodded. "Is Mr Morgan a space marine, mummy?"
"Yes, darling, I think he is."
She giggled. "That's so cool. All the other kids will be so jealous that I met a real marine," she said.
Mummy laughed, then made a funny face as if it hurt to laugh. She sat in a chair; it was too big for her as well. Janey had a sudden thought.
"Mummy, what does the writing say? On the floor over there?"
Mummy looked round. "I can't read it from here," she said, and got up and walked over. Janey jumped down and walked over too.
Mummy looked at the elegantly incised formal Gothic script. "Eyes of the Phoenix, epsilon-76, 0001-delta, 29-sigma, gamma-79," she read aloud.
"What does that mean, mummy?"
"I don't know, darling. But I would guess that it's the ship's nameplate, so she must be called Eyes of the Phoenix. What the rest means I have no idea."
"Eyes of the Fee-nix? What's a Fee-nix?"
"I think it was a kind of mythical bird, darling."
"Oh. Would Mr Morgan know?"
"He might. I doubt he'll have the time to tell us though. Space marines have lots of important things to do. Much more important things that answering questions about birds."
She nodded, feeling disappointed even though she knew mummy was right. She went back to her chair and stood up on it, looking out of the windows again.
"Mummy, are we high up?"
"Darling, we're in orbit. We're hundreds of kilometres up."
She shook her head. "That's not what I mean. Look." She pointed. "If you look down, you can see a long pointy thing. Is that the ship?"
Mummy looked where she was pointing. A long metal platform stretched in front of them, ending in a wedge shape; what appeared to be turrets and small buildings studded the length of it. "Oh, yes, I see what you mean. We must be quite high then, near the top of the ship. That must be some of the rest of it."
"How big is it, mummy?"
"I don't know. I think it's very big, though."
Janey nodded. "Why haven't we met anyone then?"
"I don't know that either, darling. I think this must be a secondary control room or something. Probably no-one comes in here very much, and if Mr Morgan didn't think to tell anyone we're here, they wouldn't know to come and find us."
Janey nodded again and sat down in her chair. If was quite squidgy and comfy, even though it was too big. "Mummy, Mr Morgan won't forget about us, will he?"
"No, darling. He's a space marine. They don't forget important things."
"Are we important?"
"If he teleported us to his ship, we are."
"Mummy, can I get in the chair with you?"
"Of course, darling. You come and nuggle in and we can wait for Mr Morgan together."
She smiled and jumped down, climbing into the chair and resting her head on mummy. Ships were nice, but mummy was better, she decided. After a little while she fell asleep again.
There were voices. Two of them, both angry. A man, very deep and certain, and a woman, higher and angrier. Outside the little door. She looked at mummy who looked back. Neither of them moved, just listening.
Sedreth cursed. He hadn't wanted to bring the Sister aboard; she might be traceable. He squeezed, quite hard. She was unconscious before she could protest. He swiftly stripped her of armour and weapons, locking them away and wrapping her nakedness in an old robe he'd found in a locker a couple of months before. Stupid woman. He made sure she was unconscious and went to check on his other guests.
They were asleep, both of them curled up in the comms officer's chair. If he had a comms officer. He checked the systems; all nominal. Good. Slipping out again, he left the pair to sleep; the woman certainly needed it. Right. Time to deal with the fanatic.
She came to quickly enough when he tapped her face gently, the pretty features distorting into a grimace of hatred.
"Don't speak, woman, just listen. You are here because I didn't want to kill you. I have no interest in you, nor in your fanaticism. You and those like you annoy me; do your best not to for the short time you're here. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."
She glared, but held her tongue, for now.
"What will happen to the soldiers who fought with me?"
She gave him a look that spoke volumes. He felt the anger rise.
"They fought gallantly against the Night Lords – known traitors – not even knowing who I was, except that I was obviously a space marine, and you and your fanatical friends are going to have them charged with heresy?"
Her eyes told that unpleasant truth. Wonderful.
"And what of sera Smitsen and her little girl? You overheard my saying that she saved my life, correct?"
She glared.
"Correct?"
She nodded slightly, an expression of cold, triumphant hatred in her eyes.
"So they will be put to the question? Either by you or by the idiots of the Inquisition?"
The truth was obvious from her expression. He gave her a look of contempt and decided to try another tack to get through to her.
"Do you know what this is?" he said, indicating the pinion attached to his armour.
She looked at him. He waited. Eventually she spoke. "I neither know nor care, heretic. Do with me as you will. My soul is safe in the Emperor's light."
"Really? I met Him. You know that? The Emperor. Spoke with Him. Just once, when this ship, my ship, was launched. He inspected our Century. He isn't a god, sister Agnetha. He never claimed to be a god; denied any such idea. He would be appalled at what people like you have made of his dream. Your stupidity, your idiotic fanatical worship, that's what lets the forces of chaos gain a foothold in humanity. Your religion is the key to the destruction of the human race."
She swore at that, cursed aloud. "You are a heretic. A follower of ruinous powers, evil and vile. The Emperor is the only hope in the galaxy. Immortal and eternal, He protects, He and He alone." She struggled against her bindings. Futile, and under other circumstances amusing. Not here. Not now.
"I was. I am no longer. I follow my Emperor – Him, not the Imperium. I am an Emperor's Children astartes, woman. The last true astartes of my Legion. And I could change your mind, if I wished. Oh, yes, I could. I could turn you to any purpose I wanted, because everyone has limits, and I know how to find them. I could break you, easily. But you are not worth the breaking. I have told you truth. Perhaps one day you will gain sufficient wisdom to realise it and to think on it. When you do, examine your conscience. Is what you do any different from what the Word Bearers do? Or any other of the chaos legions? They torture, they force belief, they believe, as you do, that the end justifies the means. I tell you the most fundamental truth of all. It does not. It cannot. You cannot defeat evil by doing evil, woman. You and yours have become the mirror image of the forces you oppose, and the ruinous powers gloat in triumph. But they have not won yet. Not as long as there are men and women of simple courage and honour, who build and do not destroy, who love and do not give in to hate, who fight to protect with mercy in their hearts and pity in their hands. I have no doubt that you will torture and kill Captain Overmars and many of his brave men. Know as you do so, that they are greater than you, better than you, finer than you, more human than you."
She spat, the liquid not quite reaching him. He chuckled.
"I am going to return your armour and weapons, Sister Agnetha. Go in peace, this day. And try and be a better person." He gave a wry smile. "I do."
"I will not touch anything befouled by your tainted hands, traitor. I shall hunt you down, heretic, you and all your dupes and assistants, and destroy the canker that defines you."
He looked at her and sighed. "As you wish." He touched the stud and she vanished in a flare of light. A soft movement from next door. Damn. They had not overheard?
He walked to the door and opened it.
They stood there, the girl looking guilty, the woman perplexed. Blast and damn it.
"You heard then?"
They nodded. He looked at the two of them.
"I hoped I could spare you that conversation, at least. Sera Smitsen, Janey. I am, unused, to apologies, to giving comfort. I am sorry. Kanret Smitsen was killed in action yesterday. His unit was attacked by the Night Lords, who were driven off with heavy casualties on both sides. His captain told me that only one sentry managed to give warning of the attack, and that without it, the entire force would have died. The sentry in question was Kanret Smitsen. He saved hundreds of lives by his actions. I regret that he was unable to save his own." He hesitated, then turned and picked up the small sack of personal effects, taking it back through to the bridge and handing it gently to the crying woman. "I shall leave you alone for a small while. There is something I still have to do on Canth."
They nodded, automatically, not really listening. Sara Smitsen was sitting on the deck, holding the small bag, tears streaming down her face, while her daughter simply sobbed into her shoulder. He turned and shut the door behind him.
No-one had disturbed the small farmstead since he had left it. He went quickly up the stairs, searching for what had to be there. A small carved wooden jewel case, a book of wedding pictures, a silver-framed flatpic of the three of them. He went into the girl's room, picked up the bedding, a rapid collection of other things that might be important to a child. Outside, to collect the doll's house. There was a sign over the mantel in the bolt-scarred living room, a blessing, hand-carved into polished wood, well cared-for. He took that as well. The sound of engines approached. There was not enough time for aught else. He 'ported back aboard, carefully placed all the items in a locker, secured them against any likely damage due to manoeuvre. Then he walked back through to the bridge.
They were still there, holding each other, but they looked up as he entered. He looked for condemnation but found none, much to his relief and surprise.
"I think, before we go any further, that we need to introduce ourselves properly. I am Morgan Sedreth, formerly an astartes marine of the Third Legion, commonly called the Emperor's Children. You may address me as Morgan, or Sedreth, as you prefer."
Sara answered him, still nervous.
"I am Sara Smitsen. This is my daughter, Janey."
He nodded a formal greeting, waiting for them to pose the obvious question. It was the mother who asked it.
"Morgan, uhm, what do you mean, 'formerly'?"
He sat down, not wanting to loom and appear threatening. Or more threatening than he could help. He looked straight at them. "Because I am no longer a space marine of the Emperor's Children." He paused. "Sera Smitsen, Janey, understand that the answer to your question involves issues that the Imperium does not like its citizens to know about. And once you know, you cannot un-know. Do you want me to continue?"
They both nodded, Janey eagerly, her mother more cautiously.
"Very well. A long time ago, on a played-out mining planet named Chemos, I was born to an ordinary family. My father was a simple fisherman who sailed an ancient leaky boat on a dying sea; my mother filleted and sold his catch. I was brought up to follow in his footsteps, but I, like many young men, wanted more. I heard of a great warrior and scholar who was uniting our disparate city-states and left my small village, with my best friend Ethaniel Cadris, to join him. We were both young, just fifteen, but join him we did. We became part of his army and fought in several campaigns until we were selected for his elite troops, called the Phoenix Guard, after our lord who had taken the Phoenix as his symbol."
"Mr Morgan, what's a Phoenix?"
"It is a kind of mythical bird, which was said to die in a burst of flame only to reborn anew from its own ashes. In ancient times it was considered a symbol of rebirth and wisdom."
He paused for her nod, then continued. "At this time, the Emperor had recently completed his own unification of Terra, and embarked upon his great Crusade to bring all the scattered worlds of humanity back together. To help him in this great endeavour he had used genetic technologies to produce twenty sons, known as Primarchs. Each of these great beings would have a measure of the Emperor's own strength and wisdom, and so be able to assist Him, for the galaxy is a very large place even for a being such as He. And the Emperor used the genetic material he had left to build super-warriors in the image of his sons, twenty great Legions of astartes marines to defend humanity from all enemies. But the ruinous powers of the warp, realising the threat a unified humanity could pose to them, used their own powers to scatter the infant Primarchs across the inhabited worlds, that they could not be taught and trained by their father. Thus the great Legions grew up without their natural fathers, and took part in the Great Crusade under temporary commanders until each Legion's Primarch could be found. And they were, one by one.
"After the Crusade had endured some time, it reached Chemos, and there we discovered that our Phoenix Lord was one of these Primarchs, a son of the immortal Emperor. That explained many things; his intelligence, his superhuman size and speed, strength and endurance, and even his perfect physique and features. But the place of one of the Emperor's sons was with his father, and Fulgrim, our Lord, agreed to join the Great Crusade, at the head of the Legion cast in his likeness, the Third Legio Astartes. And he took his elite warriors with him, for us to receive the genetic enhancements that turned us from skilled but normal human warriors to astartes space marines. We grew taller and stronger and tougher and faster. We learned to wear power armour and to fight with the weapons of the Imperium. Following a speech by our Lord, the Emperor was pleased to allow us the title of Emperor's Children, and we alone amongst the Legions were permitted to wear His device on our personal wargear. Under that name we took part in the re-unification of the human race. It lasted.."
"Two hundred years. The reverend told us that in Sunday school."
Sedreth nodded, smiling briefly. "Indeed it did, until following the conquest of the orks on Ullanor, the Emperor withdrew from personal participation and named His eldest son, or more accurately His first-found son, to command in His place. While each Primarch retained control of his Legion, the direction of those Legions was placed at the discretion of the Emperor's Warmaster."
Sara seemed to pale beneath the frontier tan. "Warmaster?"
He nodded slowly. "That was the title he was given. I gather that is a word you have heard before, and not in pleasant terms?"
She nodded.
"I know why. The Primarch in question was the leader of the XVI Legion, the Luna Wolves. His name was Horus. Horus Lupercal."
"The Arch-Heretic," breathed Sara, appalled. Janey looked worriedly at her mother, then back at him.
"I warned you, sera. What I have told you so far is by and large common knowledge. What follows is not. Do I continue?"
She nodded, as if unable to refuse, wanting but reluctant to hear him.
"Very well. At first all went well, as it had done. But following a campaign on a world named Davin, the Warmaster was seriously wounded. You must understand that this was almost unheard of; Primarchs were well-nigh invulnerable to any ordinary weapon. Anyway, he was healed, with the assistance of a warrior from the XVII Legion named Erebus. I shall not speak more of him. After he had healed, the Warmaster was changed. He was still brilliant at strategy and tactics, still a magnificent and charismatic leader, but he gradually became more ruthless, more relentless, more driven, more proud. And feeling started to spread amongst many of the Legions, that the Emperor was betraying his loyal warriors, to hand over their conquests and authority to soft-handed clerks and politicians. Even in our Legion, such rumours arose. Following a campaign against a species known as the Laer, our Lord was gifted a great sword, taken from one of their temples, as a sign of his superlative skill and our courage; for the campaign had been expected to last years, but we conquered them utterly in only months. And he too started to grow prouder, even arrogant, as he had not been before."
"So, when the Warmaster chose four Legions, including his own, now known as the Sons of Horus, to campaign alongside him, we were pleased and honoured to be one of them, and more, felt superior to other Legions not so tasked. We were ordered to put down a rebellion in the Isstvan system. My own Primarch was ordered to take a small honour guard and meet with his brother Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Iron Hands, the Tenth Legion, while the Isstvan system was being dealt with. My company, recently honoured for action alongside the Ninth Legion, was assigned as part of his honour guard. So we were not there when Horus struck the first blow in his rebellion."
"What did he do?" asked Sara.
"He hand-picked the units to make the surface assault, mixing up companies and officers. The units he selected were those he knew he could not count on to join him in rebellion. Once they were in action on the surface, he virus-bombed the world from orbit. The loyal astartes of the Luna Wolves, Emperor's Children, Death Guard and World Eaters Legions were to be massacred. Unfortunately for Horus, the First Captain of the Emperor's Children, Saul Tarvitz, was still loyal to the Emperor, and he managed to get to the surface with a warning. Many of the loyal astartes were able to get to cover and survived to become a unified force under Tarvitz's command; instead of a massacre, Horus suddenly had a war on his hands. Moreover, a war against troops every bit as good as his own, who, devoid of any way to escape the planet, were determined to take as many of Horus' forces with them to death as they could. Sixty thousand astartes survived the initial treachery on Isstvan III. Between them they killed many times that number of rebels. They held out for more than four months, until Horus fire-bombed the last survivors from orbit, turning their last defences into radioactive glass."
"What happened next?" asked Janey, breathlessly.
"Well, we were unsuccessful with the Tenth. We had to fight our way out after Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus came to blows, and arrived just after the final massacre. Believing in our Primarch, myself and my brothers stood beside him as the Emperor's response came. Three Legions, the Iron Hands, the Salamanders, and the Raven Guard, dropped against us on the fifth planet of the Isstvan system. The fighting was ferocious and we gave ground. Then four more Legions dropped. The Alpha Legion, the Word Bearers, the Iron Warriors and the Night Lords had also been ordered by the Emperor to destroy Horus' rebels. But they did not. Instead they opened fire, without warning and from behind, on the three loyal Legions in what has since become known as the Drop-site Massacre."
Sara went white. "You were there? You were part of that?"
He nodded. "Yes. I fought near my Primarch, and I saw him meet his brother Ferrus in a duel the likes of which I would not want to see again."
"Who won?"
"Fulgrim. And as his brother fell before him, he hesitated on the killing blow, but that damned Laer sword seemed to swing of its own accord and the Primarch of the Iron Hands was dead. And my Lord wept. He looked round, wildly and horrified at the massacre around him, and he reversed the blade to plunge into his own chest. Then he stopped, as if he heard something else. And it took him. I saw his eyes change colour, from gold to black and back, and pure evil look out of that perfect, beloved countenance. I went mad, I think, in that moment. I launched myself into the Iron Hands line like a man possessed, wanting only blood and death. What happened next, you basically know."
"The Heresy." Sara's voice was not asking a question, but he nodded all the same.
"We made for Terra, but the Legions that left high anchor at Isstvan were not what arrived five years later in the Sol system. They, we, had changed. The Death Guard were no longer upright and proud, but twisted and diseased, festering with rot. The World Eaters were not merely deadly close combat troops, but insane berserkers, their white and blue armour changed for red and brass. The Sons of Horus were arrogant and prideful, devoid of nobility and honour, living only for conquest. And we, the most perfect of the Emperor's Legions, had devolved into hedonistic barbarism, seeking only sensation. On Terra, the crimes we committed were vile beyond belief. Only a few of the Children took active part in the Siege of the Imperial Palace. The rest, I shall not repeat what they did in a child's hearing. Suffice to say I am still sickened by it a hundred centuries later."
"You fought in the Siege, didn't you?"
"All of us did, all the survivors of the 79th. Most of our Century had dropped on Isstvan III and died fighting Horus, although we did not know it at the time. Those of us who had accompanied the Primarch to treat with the Iron Hands were made up to strength from other units and fought right through to the Siege; there was nothing else we could do. Only a dozen of us survived to take flight with the Legion after Horus was killed."
Janey spoke, her voice soft. "What happened then, Mr Morgan?"
"We fled, like the rest of the rebel legions, to the Eye of Terror. There the Legion was turned, those who had not already turned, to the worship of a particular chaos power, whose name I shall not repeat. We became oath-sworn warriors of chaos, our proud Imperial purple and gold discarded for the black and clashing pastel pinks and greens of our patron power. My Century, the proud 79th, became the most feared warband of the Legion, available for hire to any force which would guarantee worthy opponents. That much, that tiny desire for perfection, we still retained of what we had been. For ten thousand years we fought, our numbers gradually dwindling, occasionally taking on new members if we found any worthy. We committed crimes and vile acts that have no name, for they are beyond the imaginations of most humans. We killed any and all creatures, without mercy, without compunction, with cold ruthless efficient sadism. We inflicted horror on the innocent; it was the only way we could face the horror of our own fate. Under the screams of our victims, our own internal screams of damnation could go unheeded."
Both of them were looking very scared now.
"Finally, just a few years ago, we were hired by a mighty chaos sorcerer, one Ahriman. At his orders, we found our way to a forgotten world on which stood an ancient temple. In the square before that temple the 79th was almost overwhelmed, for the first time. Only myself and Cadris survived. Yes, that same Ethaniel Cadris who had trekked across half a continent on Chemos with me all those centuries before. On Ahriman's instruction we two entered the temple alone."
"What happened?"
"He died. And I wept. For the first time in ten millennia, I wept. I felt afresh all the pain I had caused and all the pain I had felt; the despair and the sorrow, the pride and the glory, all of my memories as if living them for the first time. And I received the choice. To join anew the chaos powers, and become a mightier champion than any living, or to join the Imperium and fight as an Imperial astartes. I refused both. The ruinous powers I hopelessly served I already despised and despise still. The Imperium has fallen so far from the ideals we fought for as to be unworthy of the name, or of the Emperor."
He smiled slightly. "I suspect that that third choice was the last trial I faced there. I am astartes again, but I do not take Imperial orders. My loyalty is to the Emperor, to the ideals of the Great Crusade, not to the Imperium. This ship, my ship, and I travel amongst the stars, searching for injustice and evil, and facing it as best we can."
He looked across at two rapt faces.
"Sera, Janey, you overheard the conversation I had with the Sister. It is a choice I cannot make for you. You can return to your home. It is likely that you will be arrested. They might be gentle with a child; I do not trust they would be with an adult. Or you can remain. If you do, you will like as not never see your home again. And I do not guarantee any sort of easy existence; I hunt the Night Lords and their ilk, and in turn they hunt me. If you stay you will see, and experience, violence and loss. Either choice is a hard road to take."
The woman nodded, sniffed back more tears. "My husband is dead, the harvest not in. The landbank will take the farm. So, regardless of the Imperium's agents, we will have nothing. And I will not willingly subject Janey to the Inquisition."
He nodded. "Janey?"
"I want my daddy."
He knelt slowly, until he was at eye level for her. "I want him too. I would have been honoured to meet him. I am sorry, Janey, but he will lie with his friends on Canth."
She looked at him and her eyes filled with tears, the small mouth trembling. She turned and buried her face in her mother's chest. Sedreth stood again, his expression unreadable. He walked to the pilot's station and called up navigation, carefully laying in a slingshot course around the larger of the planet's moons. Behind him the heartbroken sobs slowly quieted.
Course laid in, he turned to his two passengers again. They looked at him wide-eyed and nervous.
He looked back and gave a tiny twitch of the lips which might have been a smile.
"You had better strap yourselves in. When we start to move, the cloak will drop. It cannot cope with the amount of power we will be putting out. We may be detected and fired on, and in any case, the accelerative forces will be beyond the capacity of the compensators."
"What's akk-sil-itive?" asked the girl, as her mother buckled safety straps round her small form.
"Accelerative. It means that we will be going faster and faster, Janey. Since we will not be travelling in a straight line, we will feel as if we are being pushed around."
"Like the whirly wheel at the fair?"
"Yes, but much faster. We will take a partial orbit and slingshot round Canthus Secundus. What you call Brightmoon. Its gravity will fire us like a projectile towards system nadir, and we will be able to jump to warp before anyone can stop us."
"Where are we going?"
"Where she takes us. The old lady seems to have a mind of her own." He patted the console in front of him affectionately.
Sara looked terrified. "You don't have navigators?"
He met her eyes. "Sara, I don't have anyone. Just the ship. And now, you two. If you want to think of it like this, I do the Emperor's will, and He protects. Neither I nor the ship have any other allegiance."
She looked at him, obviously not convinced, but trying hard not to communicate her fear to her child. He smiled gravely. "I would not put you at greater risk than need be. The Geller fields are strong."
Sara hesitantly buckled in her harness. He nodded and punched the main drives.
"Is that Brightmoon, mummy?"
"I think so."
"It's getting awful close."
The acceleration pressed them back in their seats as Eyes of the Phoenix swung suicidally close around the rocky planetoid, swung their chairs sideways as they shot c-fractional outwards, far faster than any weapons platform operator could hope to react.
"Wheeeee!" screamed the girl excitedly, bereavement briefly forgotten in the adrenaline rush.
Sedreth started the Geller fields, bringing them to full power. As an afterthought he brought up the ancient vessel's shields too. Just in case.
"Coming up on warp entry."
The passengers looked on in astonished awe as lightnings crackled round the sudden hole in reality, then they vanished off the scopes in Canth system.
Three weeks later, a strike cruiser from the Lamenters Chapter Astartes arrived at Canth in answer to reports of a Night Lord incursion. Captain Veniel, of the 4th Company, interviewed several of the survivors of the Canthian 137th regiment. All of them agreed that the mysterious space marine had borne a white feather on his armour and that the feather had glowed white-gold and deflected a daemon weapon wielded by the enemy commander. The Lamenters were very interested in this information. They were also interested, and less than pleased, at the actions of Sister Agnetha, Order of the Argent Shroud, and of various Commissars and officials. Conducting their own review of the action, with the expert assistance of brother-librarians Castor and Tervel, they ensured that captain Sitel Overmars was exhumed and re-buried, a hero of the Imperium, with full military honours, beside his men. In addition, several of the youngest guardsmen were discreetly ferried off Canth, and these found new ways to serve the Imperium, for the Lamenters were ever ready to accept suitable recruits. However, and despite a rigorous search, no sign of Morgan Sedreth was found.