The watcher slipped easily through the crowded thoroughfare, his drab nonentity blending in seamlessly with the equally down-at-heel denizens around him. Here, in the lower tiers of Litsbeg, the second city of hive-world Haura, in what had once been called the Ark Reach Cluster, poverty and deprivation were second nature, so commonplace as to be considered standard. The watcher moved amongst the dense bustle, through market-places and past half-rusted manufactoriums, alert, his enhanced senses attuned to the different and the unusual.
A scent reached his nostrils, one different from the packed mass of humanity. Oh, human, definitely, but cleaner, fresher, than was typical. He blinked twice, triggering visual acuities far beyond the human norm. His eyes followed the microscopic scent trail. There. The woman and child. He moved through the crowd, ghosting behind them. They looked typical: worn, second-hand clothing, carefully stitched and patched; hard bargaining for just adequate staples; closely held bag, and in the child's case a tightly clutched and well-worn toy. But. That scent. They were not of this place; strangers, perhaps immigrants. He followed, as much out of curiosity as the knowledge that such often became victims of those he was targeted against.
"Mummy, can I get a new coat for Mikey?" asked the child, tugging at her mother's worn cloak.
The woman turned, stopped and knelt, touched the girl's face. "I'm sorry darling, we can't afford it. But I'll help you make him one when we get home, alright?"
The watcher hesitated, suddenly recognising the place. A bad one to stop – most people moved swiftly here. A glint in the shadows coalesced into forms. A hive gang. Old instincts warred with orders; orders won and he remained hidden, observing the unfolding tragedy even as more knowledgeable denizens left apace. No-one would stay to assist. Not here.
The leader of the gang gave an evil smile as he moved forward. "Well, well, what have we here? Hello, pretty."
The woman drew herself up, pulling her daughter behind her in a mixture of fear and defiance and maternal protection. "We've no money, if that's what you're after."
The man laughed, the chill sound echoed by the half-dozen others with him. "We don't want money, pretty. We only want to invite you to our service. The Reader will be pleased to receive extra guests."
The woman looked nervously at the surrounding gangers, some of whom were drawing weapons. "We visit the cathedral regularly. I am sorry but we can't."
The man smiled even wider. "Perhaps you misunderstood, pretty. I wasn't really asking." He drew a long-bladed knife. The girl clutched her toy closer, huddling against her mother. The watcher grimaced. A soft movement behind him and he turned, faster than anyone should have been able to. Not fast enough. A huge hand enveloped him and darkness came down.
Spiker grinned as he drew his own blade, sadistically drinking in the obvious fear of the woman and girl-child. He wondered idly how loud the child would scream when he started to skin her on the altar. Shiv was taking too long, though. Get on with it, he thought, even as a large cloaked figure emerged from the shadows. Damn.
"Is there a problem here?" rumbled a bass voice.
"Mr Morgan!" cried the girl and started to run towards the newcomer.
Then everything happened at once. Shiv made a grab for the girl who spun and squeezed her toy, spraying him with some sort of liquid which dropped him like a stone. The woman suddenly had a gun in her hand and Maxie and Span were down. The big man leapt, a blade flying from his hand and into Snatch's throat even as she lunged for the woman from behind. Devs was smashed into a wall by a massive boot before she could even get off a shot, and big Goggs was lifted clean from his feet one-handed as the cloaked figure landed beside him. The sound of his muscled neck snapping was like a pistol shot and Spiker didn't wait for anything else. He fled, ducking another shot from the woman which spattered his face with stone chips. He didn't even feel the tiny tracer that stuck on his back.
"You are both unhurt?"
Sara nodded. Her hands were starting to shake with reaction. Janey just looked around at all the bodies and buried her face in her mother's skirts. Sedreth looked relieved for a second, then scooped up the unconscious gang leader in one hand, leading them both over to the shadowed access-way he'd hidden himself in. There was another unconscious man there, and Sedreth picked him up too. His solemn grey gaze met Sara's, then he touched the teleport stud and they vanished together. No-one saw them leave. No-one would have admitted it if they had.
"Who is he?" asked Sara, indicating the second man.
"I do not know. But he was following and observing you both. I rather want to know why."
Janey looked at the big marine nervously. "Are you going to hurt him?"
"No, Janey. Not unless he makes me. There are more effective ways than pain to find answers." He gave a faint smile. "Heretical though that statement might be in certain quarters."
"Did we do right?"
"You both did very well, Janey. I am very proud of you. Now, I want you to go and fix us something to eat. Can you do that?"
"Yes, Mr Morgan," she said more happily and headed off to the lift and the little galley that she and her mother had converted to a more kitchen-type area.
Sedreth looked at Sara. "You do not have to stay."
She nodded. "Yes, I do. He would have killed me. Killed Janey. I want him to see my face and know the fear he has inflicted on others for a change."
He nodded. "Do not give in to the anger, Sara. Trust me, that is a path you do not want to walk."
She looked at him, then sighed and nodded. "I know, but it's hard."
He smiled. "Anger is natural; he threatened your child. But it cannot be allowed to control you or your actions."
She nodded again and took a seat. He carried the unconscious and mysterious second man to a different room and injected him with a powerful sedative. It would not, he suspected, be long effective, but it would suffice, for now. He returned to their primary captive, casually ripping off the man's clothing and chaining him to a metal chair by ankles and wrists. Then he took a stimulant and brought the ganger round.
Shiv shuddered as he felt consciousness return. What? Where was he? He felt cool air on his bare skin and metal on his wrists and ankles. Hesitantly he raised his head, squinting as a bright light came on, bathing him in a pool of radiance. The pretty woman from the junction sat across from him, dressed in the formal woman's robe of a high Imperial family, and holding a recording device which bore the stylised I of the Imperial Inquisition. Oh shit. He bit back a whimper of sudden terror.
A deep cold voice spoke from behind him.
"Good evening, citizen. I trust that as a loyal servant of the Emperor you are going to answer our questions without lying." A panel opened, just below eye-level to his left, revealing a gleaming row of metal implements, most of which looked extremely sharp. "It would be very, disappointing, otherwise."
He squirmed in fear.
"I shall take that as an affirmative. Let us begin. What was your intention towards the two agents who captured you?"
He whimpered in terror. "I didn't know they were agents. I swear I didn't."
"We know that. What was your intention?"
"I, I."
The voice spoke again, soft and menacing. "Let me explain this so that you can understand. You are going to die. My record for keeping someone alive and knowing under duress is seventeen weeks. Then her mind broke. It is up to you whether your death is painful and prolonged or quick and merciful. Now, what were your intentions?"
Shiv felt his bladder give way in terror. "To, to take them to the Reader."
"Who is this Reader?"
"A warrior, in armour. He performs the rituals, provides us with the Emperor's assistance in exchange for sacrifices."
"The Emperor's assistance? And what form does this assistance take?"
"Uh, it varies. One time the Emperor sent a warrior to help us defeat the Chain Group on the level above. Another time He sent us a dog-like creature which wiped out a crime syndicate opposing us. Last time He sent us information about the whereabouts of a contraband shipment."
"I see. And the sacrifices?"
Shiv trembled. They would kill him for sure now. "Uh, people. Taken off the streets. Sometimes they're killed. Most times we just hurt them. Sometimes we give them drugs to make them lust, and join in. The Reader says that makes their minds link with His so He can connect with His people."
"The Reader lies. As I think you know, or guess. Don't you?"
Shiv shuddered against the cold and the wet patch underneath him. He nodded.
"How deep are you in, little man? How far have you been initiated?"
Shiv panicked. "I swear, I haven't. The Reader wants more sacrifices before .." he trailed off.
"Before you are rewarded with power. Oh, we've heard that before, believe me. It is also a lie, little man. Describe this Reader."
"Uhm, big. I haven't seen his face. He wears black armour, like the armour you see in pictures of space marines. He has a big staff which sort of glows."
"Does his armour have any decoration?"
"Just a book, attached to the left shoulder somehow."
He felt a touch on his neck and darkness came down.
Sedreth dumped the naked ganger in a convenient cell; what had once been a crewman's quarters, long since stripped bare. He walked into the other room, where he'd left the other man. The body still lay there, breathing but otherwise unmoving. He chuckled softly.
"Up. I can tell when a man's truly unconscious." He reached, alert for trouble, for the man's leg, dodged a kick. The other rolled to his feet smoothly.
"Astartes? My apologies; my mission cannot be compromised."
"Apologies for what?"
"I regret that I am obliged to kill you."
Sedreth outright laughed, and beckoned the man in. "Feel free to try." The attack was fast and skilled; he blocked at about half-speed, enough to parry but enough too to hint at vulnerability to an all-out series. Which duly came. He gave ground, taking a heavy impact to his chest and flicking aside a suddenly extended blade.
"Ah," he said. "Callidus?"
"Close, marine. You're quite good. I regret the necessity for your death," answered the assassin, suddenly moving faster. Adrenal boost, thought Sedreth, slipping a thrust that would have crushed the throat of a lesser man. Interesting. He let himself get caught by a knee to the gut, and fell back again. The assassin leapt for the kill. He flicked the man aside, giving free rein to his full speed and strength and skill. Elbows and shoulders broke as his strikes went home, then the man was down and pinned.
"Not bad, boy. Not good enough, though," he said as he clamped down on the nerve nexus below the shoulder. The assassin slumped, unable to move. "Didn't think I knew about that, did you? Live and learn, assassin." He touched a different sedative – a highly illegal and very rare sedative – to the man's neck and his struggles ceased.
"Sara, you will want to stay out of sight for this one; he will not believe us Inquisitors."
She nodded, looking at the heavily secured man in the chair, and stepped to a position behind the prisoner. Sedreth brought the man round again.
"Good evening, assassin. My apologies, this time. You were better than I expected. However, with your enhanced metabolism, you will heal soon enough. I won't ask you who you're working for; that you're an Imperial agent is enough," he said. "Nor do I know or care what your mission is. If you hunt the Word Bearers or their agents on this world, be advised that I am doing likewise. Are you?"
There was a short silence, then the man spoke in a machine-like voice. "Negative. I was unaware of Word Bearer activity here."
"Very well. Does your mission preclude informing Imperial authorities of their presence?"
"Negative."
"I shall shortly release you, then, in order that you may do so. As I recall, the traitor Legions rate a priority 10 to the Imperium and agents thereof are obliged to inform either the Ordo Malleus or the nearest astartes chapter at earliest opportunity. Am I correct?"
"Affirmative."
"Very well. I shall teleport you to a suitably out of the way location; I don't need or want your interference. Those bastards are mine."
"Query: you will identify."
"I don't take your orders. I serve the Emperor and his Crusade, not the Imperium." He touched the control and the man vanished. Sedreth grinned at Sara. "Even he is going to take a while to get out of that."
"Where did you send him?"
"The middle of the mountain range on the third continent. I estimate he will be stuck there for about four to six hours before any transport can get to him; there's a fairly serious storm going on there right now."
"Will he be alright?"
"Oh, yes. He's a temple assassin. His body's enhanced to make him damned near impossible to kill."
She smiled slightly. "Like you, then?"
"Oh, I'm mortal enough. The question I have always avoided asking myself is am I still human enough." He winked and led her from the room.
Janey sat at her console, watching the monitors like Mr Morgan had taught her. The movements were very funny and she called out to him. "Mr Morgan, the trackers are moving funny."
He walked over, back in his massive armour again. He leant over. "What do you mean, Janey?"
She pointed. "See there? The tracker just sort of went sideways. What does that mean?"
He looked satisfied. "It means that our former guest has met other gang members and is having a disagreement about whether they should take him to this 'Reader' or not. He's trying to escape from them, I think."
"But why? Aren't they his friends?"
"Not really, Janey. That sort of hunter gang only respects strength and power. Since he no longer has either he's just another victim for them now. They'll want to take him just as he was going to take you, if we had let him."
"Oh. What about the other one? He keeps going very fast, then stopping for a bit then fast again."
"He is trying to make it to wherever he is going without being seen, Janey. He is running quickly from hiding place to hiding place, in case he also becomes a victim."
"Oh," she said. "I see now. Thanks , Mr Morgan."
He smiled faintly at her. "Janey, I want you to run the tacscan while I'm down there. Your mother is going to be v.."
"Right beside you," came mummy's voice from behind them. They looked round. Mummy was looking very stiff, the way she always did when really meant something. "They wanted to kill my daughter, Morgan. And I am not letting you go in there alone when I can help."
Mr Morgan looked at mummy with a funny face. "Sara, you are not trained for this. These are not gangland thugs, they are Word Bearers. Fully armed and armoured space marines with hundreds, at least, of years of experience in battle."
Mummy nodded. "I know. And you have only been training me for six months. But I'm still going. I can use Sister Agnetha's armour, and a flamer. No arguments, Morgan. I have to do this."
They looked at each other and finally he nodded. "Very well. Let's get you ready, then."
"Sara, you will need this," he said holding up a small silver device, worked and decorated with gilt.
"What is it?"
"A psi screen. It won't make you entirely immune to psykers, but it will more or less prevent them from invading your mind with illusions or compulsions, and help you to resist mind-affecting sorceries."
"Oh. Right. Thanks." She let him attach it to her armour just behind her neck. He stopped round in front of her again. "What about you?"
He stroked the great white pinion attached to his shoulder-plate. "The Angel's honour provides me with a similar protection."
She looked at him. "It was really his? Sanguinius?"
He nodded, with a faint smile. "Nervous?"
She nodded, mouth suddenly dry. He was right, she wasn't really ready for this. He smiled briefly, as if he read her thoughts. He turned her physically to face the mirrored wall. A white-armoured and black-cloaked woman looked back at her with cold brown eyes, a gold-embossed flamer in her hands and a heavy-looking sword at her hip. The gold of the Emperor's aquila shone bright on her left shoulder.
"Trust in the Emperor, Sara. Today you are a Sister of Battle. That is what they will see and react to. And they will be far more worried about me anyway. Show no mercy, for you will receive none, but hold pity in your heart. They were once noble warriors, before they fell to chaos. Are you ready?"
She nodded, swallowed. "Ready."
"Janey, bring tacscan online, please."
"Yes, Mr Morgan." There was a pause. "Tacscan linked and online."
She checked her readouts. "Affirm tactical link."
"Affirm tactical link. Teleport in fifteen seconds. For the Emperor."
"For the Emperor," came Janey's voice through the comlink. "Good luck, mummy. I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart. Let's do this. For the Emperor." The teleport flared and they were gone.
Spiker grovelled before the black-armoured giant. "Please, master, I had to warn you. They killed everyone else in seconds. I swear it. It was a trap. Someone was hunting us."
"And you ran." The deep voice was accusing.
"Master, I could not fight, and win, and warn you. I had to run," he pleaded, from his knees, looking up hopefully at the Reader's chest.
"Your warning is noted. However, there is no excuse for cowardice. Prepare him."
"Nooo!" he screamed, as greedy hands grabbed him, dragging him towards the altar and the waiting knife. He writhed and struggled in the grip of half a dozen eager worshippers. There was a tinkle as something fell to the floor.
"Master," said Caddie, as she picked it up. "Look."
The Reader took it from her sweaty palm. "So," he boomed. "Not a coward so much as a traitor." He crushed the device in an armoured gauntlet. "You shall learn what the true price of betrayal is, little man. I shall make an example of you. Strip him and chain him down."
They hurried to obey, eyes cold and angry and eager to see his pain. Caddie, pretty Caddie who he'd wanted for so long, spat in his face. "Traitor," she said, contempt and hatred in her blue eyes.
The Reader stepped up and gently moved her aside. "Take your place, sister. It is time this creature learnt what happens to the treacherous and forsworn." He raised his hands, the great glowing staff in his left one, and began to chant, a different, more cruel chant than the usual. Spiker screamed in terror and shat himself as purple lightnings started to spark from the four-headed image above the blood-stained octagonal slab.
Shiv watched in horror, unable to move against the massive armoured grip on his shoulders, as Spiker's body started to glow and writhe. The man's screams rose higher and louder, almost drowning out the chant from the Reader's ominous form. Oh, Emperor, forgive me. He shuddered in utter terror as the helpless man's body began to change, twisting and turning and screaming all the while.
Sara looked at Sedreth as they slipped closer to the mostly closed double doors. A light, purple and ominous, flickered inside it. There was a sentry, but she was distracted from her duties by whatever was happening inside; she never even felt Morgan's precise blow that snapped her neck. They slipped inside. By the Throne, what was that?
"Sedreth, what is that?" she murmured.
"Punishment ritual. The man on the altar is becoming a chaos spawn. A thing, mindless and twisted, to gibber its misery and pain for all eternity." His answer was equally soft.
"No-one deserves that, Morgan."
He nodded. "Flame the altar. Charge hard and fast; I will give you initial covering fire, then close with the guards. Try and make sure you envelop the marine in black; he is the most dangerous of the three."
She nodded and took a deep breath, then broke into a run. "For the Emperor!" She pressed the firing stud and a whoosh of white-hot promethium enveloped the rapt congregation in front of her; they screamed in pain, dived for non-existent cover amongst already-burning wooden benches and she leapt past, sending a second gout of flame over the altar and setting its elaborate hangings on fire. She tried not to think about burning the sacrificed man alive. It was kinder than what would have happened to him.
Tolus cursed as the Sister appeared from nowhere, and ducked aside as she sent a gout of promethium in his direction. He glanced at his tacdisplay. "Just the single Sister of Battle, brother chaplain. We shall deal with her." He raised his bolter and opened fire even as she enveloped altar, congregation, and chaplain alike in burning promethium. Bitch. Bolts impacted her armour and bounced and he cursed a second time.
"For the Emperor!" That wasn't a Sister of Battle. He swung to engage the new enemy as bolter fire slammed into his chest and his armour red-lighted. His vision blurred.
Sedreth sent a burst into the chest of one of the Word Bearer guards, dropping him, then swung his fire across the second man who flung himself aside, bringing up his own bolter to bear on the new threat and ignoring Sara. Good. He sent a burst at the man, who rolled and came up firing. Sedreth slid into a firing stance, trusting in his armour, and laid down a line of fire into the other marine's position, smashing metal, stone and ceramite armour with adamantium-cored explosive death. Bolts came back, pinging off his armour, but the other marine was forced from his bolt-hole and had to duck to avoid a sweeping burst of promethium from Sara's weapon.
"Keep on the chaplain, Sara."
"I'm trying, damn it."
He risked a glance aside, and saw the black-armoured chaplain holding his staff before him as he advanced through the blazing heat. Bugger; a proper sorcerer. He snarled in fury and emptied the magazine into the lower half of his other opponent, reloading in a single motion with barely a pause in fire. The man staggered up on his unsmashed knee to send an accurate reply and his armour red-lighted as bolts slammed into the shoulder-plate.
"Mr Morgan, I have teleport signatures incoming."
"Affirmative. What's the location, Janey?" he said, still firing at the downed Word Bearer. Die, you bastard.
"Uhm, I can't tell. It's too confusing." The young voice sounded on the edge of panic.
Sara's voice sounded over the comlink. "Janey, just read them off, like the game." She was backing off, still sending burning promethium at the chaplain as he advanced steadily towards her, apparently unharmed despite Morgan's own external temperature readouts moving into the danger level. The flamer guttered, starting to run low.
"Uhm, sector gamma-six-beta, Mr Morgan."
"Affirmed, Janey." To his left and rear. He dived backwards, flinging a pair of krak grenades at the general area just as the bright light of a teleport heralded more company. Sara flung her flamer at the materialising warriors and it exploded amongst them with a satisfying roar. Two of the incoming eight fell instantly, not even aware of what had killed them. His grenades exploded just where half the squad had dived for cover and a helmet, missing a body, bounced down the stone tiers. He grinned savagely as his first opponent finally fell and lay still.
Sara cursed and drew her bolter, firing off a burst of fire at the oncoming sorcerer in the same action. He raised his hand and the explosive rounds bounced from the sorcerous energy field. She dropped her bolter, stepped back, and drew her powersword.
"All right, you son of a bitch. Let's see how good you are."
He laughed, cold and cruel, and spun his glowing staff in his hand, taking a defensive stance. They circled; she flicked a feint, he wasn't drawn and parried the follow-up skilfully.
"I have faced better, Sister. Not long out of novitiate, are you?" The deep voice was mocking and she launched a standard attack pattern, the field of her weapon sparking off his. The world shrank to just the two of them as he attacked, the staff incredibly fast. It was all she could do to meet the sequence, and she knew she couldn't win this. He moved confidently, turning her, backing her up towards the altar despite her best efforts. Lord Emperor, if we truly do your will, give me grace this day.
Sedreth launched himself into the remaining marines, chainsword a blur of motion. One, clearly hurt from one of the explosions, was slower than the others; not for long, as he fell, cut almost in half by a precise cut. Mark III armour had its weaker spots, if the wearer was unable to defend properly. He parried an attack from his left and riposted with a combat blade to the eye, killing the man, but losing the blade. Bugger.
One of the others leapt back, a heavy bolter in his hands. Clear of the sword-fight, the warrior took a firing stance, but did not open up, luckily. Better keep it close and keep his friends between me and him. He slid to his left, drawing the remaining two with him.
Janey watched on the tacscan monitor. Mr Morgan was close to two enemies, one was standing apparently doing nothing but watch, and mummy was being backed up by the last enemy. Mummy and Mr Morgan must be fighting with their swords to be that close. She bit her lip. Mummy wasn't very experienced with that. She carefully locked in the co-ordinates of the single marine, whose icon said he had a heavy bolter now. Mr Morgan had sent that data. Janey ran from the bridge, heading for the armoury as fast as she could.
Chaplain Rasdiel bellowed a battle-cry, "Death to the corpse Emperor!", and laughed as he started the sacrificial chant, driving the woman slowly, step by step, towards the altar. She would be a fine sacrifice.
Brother Aslet chuckled as the chant began. Stylish, brother chaplain, he thought. One of the congregation was crawling towards the abandoned bolter. Good. A worthy recruit, perhaps. He returned his attention to the purple-armoured marine, wondering who he was to wear the Emperor's Children Imperial colours. Lorgar's balls, but the man was good. He'd already killed six marines, two of them hand-to-hand at odds and he was still forcing his remaining opponents, sergeant Bilius and brother Vantel, backwards single-handed. Aslet took a couple of steps backwards, not wanting to get too close to the blades; in the unlikely event that the enemy marine killed his opponents he wanted a clear field of fire. The new position gave him a poor angle though, and he returned to his old one, where he had a clear field to the altar too. The chant rose towards a climax.
Shiv watched in awe as the woman attacked. He recognised her, of course; he was never going to forget that face. A real Sister of Battle. Angie had always wanted be a Sister, before the plague had come and killed her. He remembered his little sister's tiny body in the small cheap coffin. A tear ran down his face. What had he made of his life? He watched horrified as she was forced backwards by the Reader. Looking round, he spotted the abandoned bolter. Well, if his life had been a failure, at least his death would mean something. He crawled determinedly towards it, ignoring the pain of his broken shoulder.
Sara felt the solid stone of the altar against her leg as she backed up again.
The chanting marine laughed and bellowed a phrase in some horrific language. Then there was was a roar of bolter fire. The man staggered, shot in the back, and she lunged with desperate strength.
Rasdiel bellowed in pain and anger as bolts slammed through his armour from behind, tearing the flesh of his legs and pelvis. He instinctively half-swung round, reacting too slowly as the Sister in front of him took her last chance. The glowing blade drove deep into his chest, severing his spine. Pain erupted in his fevered brain, then there was nothing.
Astel cursed, sending a burst into the treacherous cur and ripping him into pieces. He swung round in time to see the blue-lightings of the Sister's powersword erupting from brother-chaplain Rasdiel's chest and raised his massive boltgun. He barely had time to be aware of the flare of light beneath him before a belt of grenades blew his legs clean off. He shook his head and tried to raise his weapon again; something white blurred his vision then there was a crunching sound. Brother Astel's last sight in life was the arcing of his helmet systems shorting out against the energy field of the heavy powersword as it smashed through his visor.
Sedreth ripped his blade upwards, severing armour power lines, thigh muscles and arteries alike in a single blow. The marine dropped his weapon as he collapsed, left leg half-severed. Sedreth stamped down hard on the wounded man's helmet before he could recover, caving it in along with his head.
Sergeant Bilius swore as his last brother fell. His armour was red-lighted all over and he was bleeding from half a dozen minor wounds. He roared his fury and lunged; the Word Bearers would be victorious. Something slammed into his neck and there was only darkness.
Caddie hid desperately beneath the charred and burnt corpses. She remembered what the Reader had done to Spiker and bit back vomit. Whatever he'd done, no-one deserved that. And that was a Sister of Battle, a real one. The Reader had lied. "Death to the corpse Emperor" he'd said. That meant he was an enemy of the Imperium, a follower of heretics; that was what she had become also.
She lay very still, hoping no-one would notice her still alive.
"You are unhurt, Sara?"
"Yes. A few bruises, but nothing more serious." She looked at the torn and bloody remains of the man they'd questioned. "He saved my life."
"Indeed he did. It is for a man to find his own path to redemption, whatever he may have done. I am grateful that he found his when he did."
She nodded. "So am I. What now?"
"Now, we cleanse this place. Janey, have you lock?"
"Yes, Mr Morgan."
"Good. Send down two full flame units, please."
"Yes, Mr Morgan. It'll be about five minutes; they're heavy."
"That's fine, Janey. Do not drop the cloak, understand? There may be more of them around; that squad had to teleport in from somewhere."
"Yes, Mr Morgan. Out."
He clicked off the comlink, and walked over to the Word Bearer corpses, beheading each in turn. Sara's eyes met his and she nodded; take no chances with creatures like this. She retrieved her bolter and loaded a fresh magazine.
There was a flare of light and two flame units appeared. They took one each and began to systematically burn the altar area, then each of the headless chaos marine corpses, turning weapons and armour into slag in case any taint might remain for some innocent to pick up. As they turned towards the piles of dead worshippers there was a terrified scream. A woman scrambled out from the pile of bodies, unhurt and holding her hands wide.
"Please. Don't kill me."
"A clean death is better than you deserve, scum." Sedreth's voice was even deeper than normal behind his helmet speakers.
"Please. We didn't know. Please." She was on her knees, tears streaming down her face, utter terror in her expression.
Sara fought back sympathy. Then it came to her. "You worshipped at the altar of chaos, woman. You thought to gain power from the Emperor, and fell to the powers of ruin in your desire for it. Why should you live?"
"Please, I didn't know. I thought, we thought, we'd been chosen to serve the Emperor."
Sara gave her coldest smile. "You have. By me. You will go from this place, and offer yourself and your life in penance for your sins. Go to the nearest church; you are unfit to enter holy orders, but the Emperor, in His Grace and eternal wisdom, may find you worthy of service in some other way. Give a full confession, child, and if you are ordered to die for your sins, then you will die with a clean heart. That is all the mercy you deserve." She flipped a hand in dismissal and the woman fled, flinging her gang jacket aside with an expression of pure horror. She did not look back.
Their eyes met. "That was merciful, Sara. It may come back to haunt you, one day."
"I know. But one of them redeemed himself and saved my life; perhaps she can save her own soul."
He nodded and turned his flamer on the corpses, reducing them swiftly to ashes.
"Janey, we will need a demolition charge to bring down the idol. You will find one in the armoury; a square box, about a metre on each side, grey metal with black and red striping on the edges. You will need to use the little transporter; it is too heavy for you to move."
"Yes, Mr Morgan."
It was several minutes before the teleport light flared again and the charge appeared. Sedreth lifted it easily and carried it over.
"Will one be enough?" asked Sara.
"More than enough. Two would bring down the spire," he said, firing a pair of long metal bolts into the four-faced statue, and lifting the charge up to it. "This is a shaped charge, it will direct most of the force directly under the neck, shattering that thing. But the back-blast will turn everything else in here to scrap, and if not for the walls, remove most of the surroundings for a hundred metres in every direction. It is the best we can do."
She nodded. The comlink clicked open again.
"Mr Morgan. Uhm, there are people coming. Lots of people. Near the door you came in by."
"Very well. We shall deal with that. Out."
The comlink clicked off.
"I suppose we had better go and see who our visitors are." He smiled briefly and they walked together towards the rusty doors.
A few ragged-looking citizens were cautiously approaching the half-open entrance. They stopped as Sara came into view and gasped as Sedreth's armoured form joined her.
"What are you doing here, citizens?" Sara kept her voice calm; they would see what they expected to see.
They looked at each other hesitantly, then a middle-aged woman in a worn cloak spoke. "We came to see what the noise was, Sister."
"A likely story. You came to see your 'Reader', did you not?"
A few nods, a murmur or two.
Sara gave a cold smile. "He is dead, luckily for you. As are his companions, traitor heretics who followed the Arch-heretic Horus into damnation, all of them." She looked round at the expressions of disbelief. "What? You think I am mistaken? That I would not know a true servant of the Emperor? Did those scum bear His aquila?" She touched her shoulder-plate. "You were duped, citizens, tricked by evil powers. And this place is being cleansed. There will be no further worship of chaos here. Nor of anything else."
Sedreth spoke, his voice pitched to carry. "Sister, the charges are set. Detonation in four minutes. It is time to leave."
She nodded. "Very well. Sister Jane, teleport us out."
"Yes, mummy," came the soft voice in her ear, too quiet for anyone else to hear. The teleport activated again and they left the crowd to its own devices.
Janey leapt into her mother's arms, tears streaming down her face. "Mummy! I was so scared, mummy. I thought you were going to die."
"I know, darling. So was I. But we're still alive, still here. I'll not leave you, Janey. Not now, not ever," she replied, holding her precious daughter close. The small face buried itself in her neck.
A large armoured gauntlet clapped her lightly on the shoulder.
"You did well, Sara. As did you, little one. Come, you will need to eat, both of you. I speak from experience; the body needs sustenance after combat."
Janey's head lifted. "Even yours?"
"Even mine. And while we eat you can explain how managed to teleport in and out so quickly and accurately, young lady. Even I do not have control that fine."
Janey blushed. "Yes, Mr Morgan."
Sara looked at her daughter as she carried her through to the galley/kitchen area. "You teleported in?"
A faint nod. "Is Mr Morgan mad at me?"
Sara looked more closely, meeting big, brown, guileless eyes. "If he is, he's not half as mad at you as I am. Darling, you could have been killed."
"I was scared, mummy. I thought the bad man with the heavy bolter was going to shoot you," said her daughter tremulously.
Sedreth's voice came from up ahead. "He was. I am not angry with you, Janey. But I do want to know what you did and how you did it."
They went through; he was pulling things out of lockers, packets and cartons that he did not usually touch.
"What are you doing?"
He looked at them. "I am preparing the calorific, mineral and vitamin supplements best suited for astartes marines. I do not recommend you eat them however; they are healthy, but tasteless, stodge for the most part. For some reason whoever first designed them seemed to think – wrongly – that marines have no sense or care for taste and texture."
Sara looked at him. "There's plenty stew in the pot there."
"Indeed. Enough for three normal people. I am not normal, however. I shall, if you don't mind, have my stew after I have eaten this. It will be a pleasant finish."
Janey giggled and let her put her down. "Why aren't you normal, Mr Morgan?"
"I am astartes, Janey. I weigh more than six hundred and fifty standard kilos; I am almost three metres tall. I have enhancements to my physique that enable me to do what ordinary warriors cannot do. And to sustain that physique, I need to eat, quite a lot."
He smiled slightly and gestured them to the long table. Janey jumped up onto the double bench and chair that enabled her to reach the polished surface. Sara took her own seat, the astartes-sized furniture leaving her feet dangling above the floor like a small child despite the bulk of her armour. Sedreth noted her slight discomfort and a flicker of a smile passed his features.
"We shall have to get more appropriate furniture for you two. There should be some somewhere."
She looked at him curiously. "You don't know?"
He shook his head slightly – the equivalent of a vigorous negative for a lesser man. "Most of the ship was effectively mothballed tens of centuries ago. We automated her following the Siege, and once the last of our techmarines died – about five hundred years later, I think – no-one went down there. Only the bridge and the immediate vicinity has been inhabited for at least thirty centuries. And given what could have got aboard while we were based in the Eye, no-one cared to look at the rest, trusting in the ship's machine spirit to maintain itself while we travelled from one combat to another."
Sara looked doubtful. "That seems very dangerous."
"It would have been, had any of us cared. You forget what we were, Sara. We were Emperor's Children marines. The favour of the Legion's chaos patron would protect us from the vagaries of the warp, and beyond that our interests lay in battle. In war and destruction."
Janey suddenly looked serious. "Mr Morgan, did you ever hurt children?"
"Yes. Usually as a corollary to combat, but occasionally deliberately. Our patron enjoys suffering, and the suffering of the innocent most of all. Some of us became expert torturers, and all of us were skilled at inflicting pain – and pleasure. There can come a point where the body, the mind, cannot tell the difference. Some of the Legion have long since reached that point; they exist only for the sensation, and are raised to heights of ecstasy by injury, the more serious the better."
Janey looked scared and took the bowl of stew quietly. Then she spoke again.
"Mr Morgan, what happened to all the people near the temple today?"
"Janey, I do not know. If they were sensible, they ran. If they were not sensible, and stayed, the demolition charges we set will have killed them. No human could survive an explosion of that power. But they were given warning of the detonation. It is their choice, not ours."
"It's still our fault," she said stubbornly.
"In one way, yes. But we could not have left the Word Bearers to work their evil. Had we not acted to stop them, they would have corrupted the entire spire, and possibly the world. In such a case, the Imperium would have been bound to order an Exterminatus."
"A what?"
"An Exterminatus, Sara. The Imperium would have wiped out all life on the planet, either by orbital bombardment or by use of a bioweapon like the life-eater virus. Once a planet is truly corrupted, the Imperium knows little alternative. Milliards of innocents would have died along with the guilty. By our actions, the Word Bearers were forestalled and the Imperium alerted; the Inquisition will no doubt hot-foot a powerful team here, to investigate and cut out any remaining taint, but I hope they will be able to do so with limited impact, rather than wholesale slaughter."
"That's horrible."
"Yes, it is. And it is rare, thankfully. But it is not by any means unheard of. Isstvan III was not the first planet to be so treated, and many, perhaps many hundreds, have been likewise destroyed since, including all the homeworlds of the traitor Legions. The ruinous powers care nothing for the lives of their pawns, and when planets are infested beyond re-conquest by chaos, by genestealers or tyranids, even occasionally by orks, the Imperium is not unwilling to use such ultimate force to prevent the spread of the enemy. That it is self-defeating in the long run has not yet occurred to the Council of Terra."
Janey looked quite pale. A single tear ran down her cheek. "I thought the Emperor was there to protect us."
"Janey, the Emperor I knew would not have authorised much, probably most, of the administrative and ecclesiarchical actions of the Imperium. He wished to re-unite humanity, that it be safe and secure amongst the stars, to walk the galaxy unafraid. His fall, and the loss of his sons Sanguinius and Ferrus Manus – amongst the wisest of the Primarchs – allowed the more fanatical adherents of the Imperial cult to gradually take over. Following the Heresy, the remaining loyal Primarchs vanished from knowledge; there was nothing to counter the religious orthodoxy that the Emperor was a God. And we have seen today how easily such belief can be corrupted. The Emperor does not take away free will, nor does He absolve us of responsibility for our own actions. Though we place our trust in Him, He still expects us to carry bolters."
She smiled slightly at the last sentence. He nodded briefly.
"Trust in the Emperor. But do not forget that the Emperor and the Imperium are not the same thing."
Sara looked at him. "That's very close to heresy."
He laughed aloud. "Sara, it is heresy, in some quarters. It is heresy to question; heresy to do other than obey blindly. In many respects it is heresy to be truly human, to love and hate, to feel pleasure or resist hurt, to enjoy a good meal or feel pride in your own accomplishment. I warned you, remember. I serve the Emperor as best I can. If in doing so I provide assistance to the Imperium it is incidental. I personally would not hesitate to kill an Inquisitor, an Imperial officer, even a member of the High Council itself, if it interfered with what I must do."
"Even another astartes?"
He paused. "I hope it will be a long time before I have to make that decision. Astartes marines know the Emperor as other than a God to be worshipped, for they still have memory, records, of Him as a Man, a general who led them into battle."
Sara looked quietly up at the huge marine, sadness filling her that such a man should have fallen into corruption. She put out a hand and covered his huge armoured paw.
"The Emperor protects, Sedreth. He will forgive you and you shall redeem yourself for your sins."
He met her eyes with sardonic humour. "I hope so, Sara. There is a lot to forgive and redeem."