Sedreth watched the slender form as Sara walked back down the gangway to the dock. He turned at the sound of small feet behind him.
"Mr Morgan?" Janey looked serious but excited, her small face alight with an Idea. He smiled inside his helmet; Janey's Ideas were usually quite interesting.
"Yes, Janey?"
"You 'member you were looking for the drop lists? For your friends who died?"
"Yes. I thought they might have been hidden."
"I think I know where they might be hid." She looked straight at him with a slight smile. "'Cos I used to play at hiding stuff. It has to be somewhere easy to 'member, and somewhere no-one else would look, or find by accident."
He found himself nodding. "Indeed, Janey, that would be the ideal sort of hiding place."
"Well then, what part of the ship is never inspected even during a proper maintenance?"
He paused for thought and noticed she was looking down. At the... "The deck. The deck plates are rarely touched." A thought struck him. "But the plates are often lifted during maintenance checks."
She nodded, waiting as he went on slowly. "All except one. The name-plate."
"Yes!" She clapped her hands. "If I was hiding something very small, I'd put it under the name-plate. It'd be the safest place, and easiest to 'member."
He thought for a few seconds. Was it possible? "Janey, that is an interesting thought. When your mother returns from her business on the docks, we shall lift the ship's name-plate and look."
She fairly bounced with excitement. "Okay, Mr Morgan. I'm gonna make a san'wich for lunch. You want one?"
"No, thank you, Janey. I shall eat once I am off-duty."
The tiny face went serious. "Okay, Mr Morgan." She smiled once more and dashed off in a rapid patter of small feet. He watched her tiny form, dwarfed by the vast emptiness of gleaming corridor, until it was lost from view. She couldn't possibly be correct. Could she?
Sara strolled back up the long gangway, aware of, and ignoring, the curious looks of dock workers and merchants. Sedreth's half-shadowed form snapped a salute as she paused at the ornate opening with its golden scroll-work. She'd never really looked at the decoration round the ship's main lock before; it was truly beautiful, with the Legion's winged talon and the imperial aquila bright above a delicately worked pattern of wings and fire. She smiled slightly, which turned into a grimace as she remembered what had become of the warriors who had sought such perfection. Her return salute to Sedreth's armoured form was precise and formal. The hatch closed solidly behind her.
She leant against the wall and smiled at the massive armoured warrior opposite her.
"I'm glad that's over."
Sedreth's chuckle was brief but genuine. "Captain Tarken is tired of dealing with merchants?"
She felt her mouth twist. "Just a bit. But all the supplies are loaded, and my credit balance shows more than three million credits, still. I never thought such a sum could be insufficient for anything."
He was smiling as he removed his helmet. "Munitions are expensive."
She nodded. "Very. I am glad we weren't after ammunition for the main battery. Running a warship costs."
Sedreth nodded as they walked together towards the lifts. "Very much so. It is unfortunate that Lord Commander Calgar did not see fit to re-munition us. However, we are far from helpless despite the shortage. And it is unlikely we shall fight any long engagements in any case."
A jam-faced urchin was waiting for them on the bridge, fairly bouncing with excitement, half-eaten sandwich held loosely in one hand. "Hi, mummy. Hi, Mr Morgan. Can we look now?"
Sara knelt and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, kneeling down to wipe the eager face and retrieve the disintegrating bread pieces. Janey squirmed and giggled. Satisfied, Sara stood again. "I hope the kitchen is in a better state than your face, young lady."
Janey gave her a look that clearly said 'of course', then turned her attention back to the space marine. "Can we, Mr Morgan?"
Sara looked at her daughter. "Can we what?"
"Look, mummy. Look under the name-plate for Mr Morgan's friends," came the reply.
Sedreth hesitated, then nodded. "Let us examine it at least." He walked over to the great golden panel and knelt beside it, taking a diagnostic scanner from his utility belt. Carefully, he ran the probe along the sides of the ship's dedication. Interesting. "There is a faint energy field. So slight as to be unnoticeable unless the ship is entirely powered down or someone is actively looking for it." He took out another implement, designed to unlock anything from the tiny parts of a bolter to the bolted-down plates of a warship. It buzzed futilely.
"Well, someone sealed this, and meant it to be difficult to un-seal. There is definitely some kind of force preventing the plate from being lifted."
"Some sort of chaos trick?" asked Sara.
He shook his head. "I don't think so. Whoever did this must have done it before the assault went in on the Choral City on Isstvan."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because the name-plate has been untouched, indeed ignored, for ten millennia, so far as I know. And I was one of the command crew for most of that time." He chuckled at their expressions. "How else do you think I learned to pilot and astronavigate?"
"Mr Morgan, you're all glowy."
He looked down at himself. The great pinion on his left shoulder shone softly, lending his armour a sheen that made it very bright even under the powerful bridge lights. A sudden thought came to him and he took the formal remembrance kneel, left knee on the deck, right hand to chest. He placed his free hand on the name-plate and spoke. The catechism.
"What is your duty? Service to the Emperor's will. What is the Emperor's will? That we fight and die. What is death? Death is our duty."
There was a soft click and the golden panel lifted about a decem above the flush deck. He put his fingers into the gap and lifted gently; it moved smoothly and easily. A purple and gold honour pendant wrapped something small; he lifted the object out with great care.
Janey clapped her hands, looking eager and anxious at the same time. "Is that it, Mr Morgan?"
He placed the object on the console beside him and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a small data spool. The honour pendant he recognised with a pang as belonging to Milos Inavovic, one of the few Terran-born members of the Century and a veteran of the Emperor's Wars of Unification on humanity's homeworld. A warrior who had served with the Legion for more than a century before the Primarch had been found and one of the oldest surviving marines in any Legion who was not encased in a dreadnought. A brave man. An honourable man. He flinched mentally. A dead man.
All three of them looked at the data spool and then exchanged glances. With a soft sigh, Sedreth fed the wire into the reader. The screen above them came to life.
It was a space marine; Sedreth recognised librarian-sergeant Inavovic, grey-haired and cool-eyed, but he'd never seen that expression on the man's face. The sergeant looked around, as if watching for observers, then started to speak.
"To whoever is watching this, if you're not standing beside me, I am already dead. I hope I died well, as an astartes of the Emperor should. The deployment on Isstvan III is due in twelve hours; the units deployed have been hand-picked by the Warmaster. Our Primarch has been sent away, to meet with the Iron Hands and Primarch Mannus. I,.." he paused, hesitated, then went on in a rush, "I suspect treachery. Every unit selected from the Legion has been drawn from those who disavow the lodges, and almost all the remaining veterans of the Emperor's Wars on Terra will drop. More, the officers selected are amongst Eidolon's loudest critics. From what I know of the other Legions, a similar selection has been made. For an assault of this size, there should be at least one First Captain or Lord Commander in command on the ground but there is none. Those closest to the Primarchs are not involved in the ground assault. Members of the lodges are notable by their absence. There was a delivery of the life-eater virus to this ship – a delivery I should not know about, but discovered by accident. Why, I do not know, but the atmosphere in the Legion has been changing for months; loyalty to the Primarch is openly spoken of as paramount, even beyond loyalty to the Emperor. I think the lodges are spreading sedition. There is no reason to use such a weapon on this world, except one. Betrayal. The Warmaster has selected the most loyal, those who would never countenance opposing His Imperial Majesty, as the attacking force, to drop to the surface...
"I trained as a librarian before the Council of Nikaea, and I can sense the tension, the anticipation, even intentions. I was on Vengeful Spirit during the briefing and saw the Word Bearer Erebus. He plans treachery, I am certain of it, and he has the Warmaster's ear. I think also First Captain Tarvitz has suspicions of his own, though not as I do. Horus Lupercal intends revolt, I believe, and the first blow will fall on the loyal members of his Legions. I hope I am wrong. If I believed in any deity, I would pray I was wrong."
The image cut out, then reappeared. Inavovic was in full battle armour in this new image. Around him, the bridge crew moved as if they could not see him at all.
"It is taking all my strength and training to keep myself unnoticed. We drop within the hour. I have appended the entire drop listing, and the ship's dedication by the Emperor. If I am right, all of us died for Him. If I am right, we will be bombed from orbit, but I am alert for it. I shall give warning, such as I can. And if I am able, the traitors will not get a massacre, they will get a war. For the Emperor and Terra. If I was right, brother, avenge us; do not let our honour and name be fouled by this filth."
The screen flickered again and went blank. Then it cleared and a long list of unit designations came up. Sedreth watched, astounded, as each unit listed the names and ranks of every squad member. Every single astartes who dropped on Isstvan was included. He saw Sara reach for the recording controls, a tear running down her cheek. Janey's small hand reached up and took his – he felt obscurely comforted. Eventually the long long list ended and the screen flickered again.
The image was one he recognised, though not from this perspective. Luna. A great stone column, nigh five kilometres high he knew, beside which a massive vessel hung at anchor, held by a monstrous golden chain. Below it a huge open space was filled with rank upon rank of warriors, hundreds upon hundreds of astartes in armour of purple and gold standing in disciplined lines in front of dozens of massive war machines. The angle changed, focussing on a gold-draped dais surrounded by warriors in golden armour with long halberd-like weapons. Custodes, the Emperor's personal guard.
The view panned across the small group of people standing on the platform, slowing and closing as it reached the central occupants. He heard Sara and Janey both gasp as they recognised – they had to recognise – the beautiful winged figure in blood-crimson battle armour chatting and laughing with an equally tall and proud being in pearl-white armour and a green cloak roped with white gold and gems. The two were joined by another pair, equally massive by comparison to the mortals around them. One of the pair, though tall and handsome, was almost hulking, wearing gorgeous horned battle armour of gold and bronze and cloaked in a mantle of golden feathers that made him seem even larger. But it was the second figure that Sedreth could not tear his eyes from.
That being was taller, but almost slender by comparison with his companion, and impossibly handsome, with white-blond hair. He wore armour of imperial purple and gold, the Emperor's aquila brilliant on his chest. At his waist hung a massive broadsword, and his cloak was a silver-white so bright that it hurt to look at it. My Primarch.
The vid played for several seconds, focussing primarily on the four Primarchs, but also panning across the long ranks of astartes at attention, the richly dressed onlookers and the formally-robed dignitaries. Then there was a fanfare and even the Primarchs on the dais bent their knees as He came amongst them, gold-armoured, mighty and vital, His immense presence coming through even on the recording. Beside Him walked a slender, robed, ascetic, bearing the Rod of Terra with its eagle and brazier, but none of them had eyes for the legend that had been Malcador the Sigilite. Sedreth felt himself come to attention without any conscious thought, and saw Sara kneeling in instinctive submission. Beside him, Janey's mouth was open in utter wonder. Neither had to ask him who the gold-armoured figure was. As He had done centuries before, the Emperor walked and talked in front of them.
Sara watched in awe as the Emperor stood on the dais. The Emperor Himself! She couldn't help her instinctive genuflection, nor did she resent it. Even on a recording He was impossible, a God made flesh. The father of humanity, the protector of the Imperium, the Lord of All. His hair was dark. Not jet, but velvety black and rich, His features proud and regal. But it was His eyes that caught her gaze, the sheer power in that golden gaze holding her motionless on one knee before the mere recording of her Lord.
Janey held tight to Mr Morgan's hand even as he came to immaculate attention. The Emperor! And His sons. The Angel Sanguinius! And the Phoenician! She wondered who the other two Primarchs were. They were all so beautiful, even the one with only one eye. And it was obvious how close they were to each other, how much they loved and respected their brothers.
The Emperor spoke. "My sons, honoured guests, it is My pleasure and honour this day to dedicate this fine vessel to the service of My beloved son Fulgrim. As he defends the Imperium of Man, may she defend the brave warriors in her care; as he brings unity to the scattered worlds of our people, may she bring justice; as he is My will, let her be his eyes. I name this ship Eyes of the Phoenix. May she bring glory to My beloved son and his Legion." And he touched a control, letting a huge bottle swing down to smash against the massive prow in a ritual millennia older than the Imperium. The audience cheered, and the other Primarchs applauded their brother.
Then the Emperor and His sons descended from the platform and walked the ranks of astartes, occasionally one or other of them pausing to exchange a word or two with immaculate warriors. As the party passed one in particular, Janey sensed Mr Morgan stiffen and realised he was seeing himself. The Primarch in white said something to him and she looked up at his face, seeing his lips move and a single tear run unheeded down his cheek.
As the procession ended the Emperor turned again to face the massed space marines. He didn't raise His voice, but it carried clearly. "My warriors, soon you will return from this joyous occasion to the fields of battle, where you will continue your work of making the galaxy safe for mankind. Know as you do so, that My thoughts are with you. The catechism of the astartes is that My will is for you to fight and die. That is not entirely correct. A brave man I once knew said a profound truth about war which I would share with you today. He said, that ancient general, 'No-one wins a war by dying for his country. You win a war by making the other bastard die for his country.'"
The Emperor chuckled, joined by His sons who looked highly amused. "We no longer fight for countries; we fight today for humanity itself. So I wish you to do Me a small favour in the coming battles. Stay alive and make the other bastard, be he ork or eldar or monster, die. The Imperium of Man needs its astartes."
Fulgrim stepped forward and spoke clearly, his voice deep and rich and proud and powerful. "For the Emperor!"
The massed ranks bellowed it back, fit to shake the air. "For the Emperor!"
"What is your duty?"
As one, hundreds of voices roared the answer. "Service to the Emperor's will!"
"What is the Emperor's will?"
"That we fight and die!"
"What is death?"
"Death is our duty!"
The chant repeated and repeated as the vid faded out. Sara let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. She looked at the others. Janey was smiling; Sedreth looked white and drawn.
"Morgan? Are you alright?"
He seemed to shake himself. "Yes. Yes, I am fine, Sara. It has been a long time since I saw that."
She hesitated then asked it. "I recognised the Phoenician and Lord Sanguinius. Who were the other two?"
He sighed, a soft exhalation. "The one in the feathered cloak was Magnus the Red, the Primarch of the Thousand Sons. The other was Lupercal, a hundred years before he became Warmaster."
"Horus? That was Horus himself?"
He nodded slowly.
"They both turned traitor."
He nodded again, then hesitated before speaking. "According to the Thousand Sons, they were attacked while loyal to the Imperium. That is why they joined the rebellion; they were condemned without a choice to fight on the Emperor's behalf. They hate the Imperium for that, and the Space Wolves and Custodes above all."
Janey looked at him. "Why them?"
"They were the force that attacked Prospero without warning. The Thousand Sons lost nine in ten of their brethren that day, and their homeworld was left a lifeless desert. The few that survived were only saved by Magnus's sorcery, and they swore eternal vengeance against the Wolves. Even by the standards of chaos legions, that hatred is hard and bitter, and no Thousand Sons sorcerer will pass up the chance to kill and injure Leman Russ's children."
"What about the non-sorcerers?" asked Sara.
"There are none. The Thousand Sons are all sorcerers, since Ahriman's Rubric – a sorcerous ritual cast thousands of years ago. All the Thousand Sons were psykers to some degree; that is why they were attacked in the first place. Those of insufficient power to tap into the spell were turned to dust, their souls sealed inside their armour; they are little more than automatons now. Almost impossible to kill; they have to be utterly destroyed. The others are all immensely powerful sorcerers."
Janey paled. "That's horrible."
He nodded. "Yes, it is. Although it does mean that the Thousand Sons no longer recruit, for which humanity may be very grateful."
Sara nodded slowly, and changed the subject. "The Emperor was ... immense."
Sedreth replied gravely. "Indeed. You can see why He is so revered."
Janey's voice was quiet but serious. "He isn't a God though, is he?"
He shook his head. "No. He is immortal, the ultimate human, but he is not a God. Nor did he wish to be." He gave a rueful grimace. "That was why the damned Heresy happened in the first place."
"The Word Bearers?" asked Sara.
He nodded, then shook himself. "But enough of such maudlin talk. You have both seen the Emperor as he was. And now we know which units dropped on Isstvan III. Which means I have a lot of work to do, once we put out again. Are all the deliveries complete?"
Sara shook her head. "One more to come. I took the liberty of purchasing some normal-sized furniture for myself and Janey. It will be nice not to be dwarfed every time we sit down."
He smiled slightly. "In that case, I shall return the memory spool to its hiding place. It lay safe there for ten thousand years; it should remain safe no matter what."
They both nodded their agreement.
"Mr Morgan?"
"Yes, Janey?"
"What you said, about service to the Emperor's will. The Black Templars said the same thing."
"It is the catechism of the astartes, Janey. It dates back to the Emperor's wars of reunification on Terra."
"Oh. So all the space marines say that?"
He nodded. "All those loyal to the Emperor."
The small face went sober at the reminder that not all marines served the Emperor, then brightened all at once. "Do we serve the Emperor?"
"Yes, Janey, I think we do. Not the Imperium, but the Emperor, yes. Since Macragge, we have to consider ourselves as instruments of His will."
Her smile was dazzling. "Then we should say it too. 'Cos even if it means we have to die, it's okay, 'cos the Emperor will keep us safe, like daddy."
Sedreth looked at her, then slowly smiled. "What is your duty?"
The small voice was serious and she stood very straight, mimicking the astartes attention stance perfectly. "Service to the Emperor's will."
"What is the Emperor's will?"
"That we fight and die." She looked at her mother.
"What is death?"
"Death is our duty." Both of them said it, and he knelt down and put out his gauntleted hand. After a moment, Sara put hers on top of his, then Janey followed suit. No-one said anything, but two pairs of brown eyes met his grey-blue ones. It was enough.
"A bit to the left. Yes, that's perfect." Sedreth nodded to her and stood. She inspected the chamber briefly. Two comfortable-looking stuffed chairs and a large multi-cushioned couch now occupied the room, with a low wooden table between them. A pair of large white-striped rugs, one blue, the other green, lay, pleasantly fluffy, across the metal decking. It wasn't much, but compared to the stark martiality of the rest of Eyes of the Phoenix it was sybaritic. She smiled slightly; a small haven for them to escape the endless routine of training and military pursuits. A place where Janey could be just a little girl again, for a while; where she could be nothing more than mummy. A place where they could forget, for a time, the rest of the universe and whatever task the Emperor wanted of them. She felt a twinge of guilt, but suppressed it. They needed somewhere to be just a family again, to remember that they were human too, as well as the Emperor's servants. Which was probably heresy. We serve the Emperor, she told herself sternly, not the Imperium and its Theocracy. The Emperor is not a God.
Janey looked up at her. "It's nice, mummy."
"You like it, darling?"
A nod. "It's sorta homey. Not marine-y." A look at Sedreth. "Sorry, Mr Morgan."
The big marine smiled slightly. "No apology is needed, Janey. Your mother's idea is a good one. Both of you need somewhere to relax in comfort. Somewhere you can still be a family."
"Aren't we a fam'ly?"
He gave her a solemn look. "In a special way, Janey. Our bonds are those of war and camaraderie, of shared danger rather than shared bloodlines. I would not attempt to take the place of your father, even if it were possible, but I am grateful to have you as battle-sisters."
The small face, which had looked worried, smiled up at him. "Yes, brother-sergeant." Her salute was immaculate, straight off the parade ground. His return was drill-perfect.
The intercom chimed.
"Eyes of the Phoenix, Tarken." Sara's answer was brusque, mild annoyance at the disturbance.
"This is Devsparts control, Eyes of the Phoenix. All ship departures are delayed by order of Lord Inquisitor Gustavus in the name of the Emperor. He has just arrived in the system."
"Acknowledged, control. Tarken out." She cut the connection and met the eyes of her shipmates.
"If I might make a suggestion, Sara?"
She nodded.
"Contact the Lord Inquisitor and offer him any assistance he may require. Anyone commanding a ship like this should do that."
Lord Inquisitor Jein Gustavus dismissed the aide without changing expression. Another flunkie, eager to ingratiate himself with the Ordo Malleus. He looked enquiringly at brother-captain Ignatius, commander of his Deathwatch squad.
The former Blood Raven nodded. "Just the one more before we meet with the Governor, Lord Inquisitor. A Captain Tarken, who has offered us any fire support we may need."
"Fire support?"
"Her ship is ex-military. According to the registration, it is a Raptor-class strike destroyer. Obsolete, but nonetheless formidable if it retains any of its original armament. I admit to being surprised that such a vessel was placed under civilian command."
"Indeed. Do you know who authorised such a command?" Gustavus had no idea what a strike destroyer was but acceded to Ignatius' judgement; they had served together, in some very tight spots, for more than two decades and as far as he trusted anyone, he trusted the black-armoured marine.
"According to the records sent us, Lord Commander Calgar of the Ultramarines. Logically, this implies that the captain and crew are agents of the Ultramarines."
"Is he outside?"
"She, Lord Inquisitor. Yes. Shall I send her in?"
He nodded.
The door opened and a black-armoured astartes came out. She noticed that his left shoulder-plate bore the insignia of the Blood Ravens, and the rank markings of a captain. He looked straight at her, expressionless.
"The Lord Inquisitor will see you now, captain."
"Thank you, brother-captain." She stood and walked past the marine into a smallish undecorated room containing a desk and a crimson-armoured man with an artificial eye sitting beneath the aquila.
The man didn't waste words. "Captain Tarken? I am Lord Inquisitor Gustavus. You offered your services."
"Yes, Lord Inquisitor. Although I do not have a full crew, I have sufficient to manoeuvre and fight a short action if necessary. As the most powerful ship in the system, Eyes of the Phoenix is at your service should you require our fire-power. Though I am afraid we are somewhat short of munitions and could not fight an extended action."
"Your sense of duty does you honour, captain."
"I live to serve the Emperor, Lord Inquisitor."
He nodded. The marine captain spoke quietly from her left. "You wear a Black Templars purity seal, captain."
She looked at the man. "An honour I remain astounded by, brother-captain. And one I work hard to remain worthy of."
"Might I enquire where you received it?"
"At dock at Macragge, brother-captain, following action against a hive-fleet spur at Caltenis."
Gustavus looked shrewdly at her. "I have heard of the action. The battle-fleet of the Ultramarines and the Imperial Navy destroyed the xenos menace utterly. You were there?"
"No, Lord Inquisitor. We were involved in the earlier action. By the Emperor's grace we arrived in time to teleport the surviving Black Templars from the strike cruiser Implacable before her engines detonated and escape the system to bring warning to the Ultramarines. Our ship received significant damage, and we did not take part in the subsequent battle."
"Then you must have been on Macragge during the 'Miracle'?"
"Indeed, Lord Inquisitor. My daughter and myself were at a devotive shrine when it happened. It... shone. Shone with the light of a thousand stars, yet I could still see. The Throne of the Primarch glowed blue, Ultramarines blue, as bright as the sun, and the Emperor said that His son Robouté would be reunited with Him. And the song, Lord Inquisitor, millions of voices raised in praise." She shook herself, looking back into a fascinated face. "I shall never forget it."
There was a long silence.
"Eyes of the Phoenix, epsilon-76, 0001-delta, 29-sigma, gamma-79," quoted the marine. "An old, old vessel. Sigma indicates astartes, but I have never seen an astartes ship with a gamma registration before." His voice was quiet and emotionless.
She turned her head. "I hope you never see another, brother-captain, unless you have a company of astartes at your back. As I understand it, the letters of the ancient alphabet known as Greek were used in sequence for the original astartes Legions. Thus the Dark Angels as Legio Astartes I were alpha, and so on. Gamma is the third letter of that alphabet." She waited to let that sink in.
Gustavus looked at her, appalled understanding in his single human eye. "That was a ship of the Third Legion?"
She nodded silently. The marine's expression was icy.
"The Emperor's Children. Traitors and heretics."
She met his gaze without compunction. "Nothing so grand, brother-captain, if I may be so bold. They are merely vermin, to be exterminated on sight like any other dangerous pest."
The inquisitor gave a short bark of laughter. "You have considerable courage, captain, to tell an Imperial Inquisitor to his face that you command an Emperor's Children ship."
Sara smiled slightly. "Lord Inquisitor, I am sure that you already know that all agents of chaos on Macragge died during the Emperor's intervention; their false Gods did not protect them from His wrath. No taint of chaos exists aboard my ship, and Lord Commander Calgar had his librarians and chaplains confirm that before ever he allowed me to leave the system. I am not perfect; who of us is? But I have felt the light of the Emperor Himself. He protects. I have nothing to fear from His servants."
Gustavus stood slowly. "We shall not require the fire-power of your vessel, captain. You have leave to continue your journey. Walk in His Light."
"You also, Lord Inquisitor, brother-captain. An honour to meet you both." She gave a formal brief bow and walked out. The door shut behind her.
In the small room, the Deathwatch marine looked at his commander. "You trust her then, Lord Gustavus? Despite the origins of that ship?"
"Yes, I rather think I do. I felt the touch of power on that seal she wore; it has been used against daemons. No agent of chaos could wear it without harm."
"Should we not inspect her ship?"
"Not at this time. Somehow I have the feeling we will run into this captain Tarken again, Ignatius, my friend. And we will be grateful for it when we do."
The armoured giant nodded slowly. Over the decades he had learned to trust Gustavus' hunches; the Inquisitor was right most of the time. The next meeting might be interesting.