Chapter Nineteen
A/n This starts book two as previously mentioned. It commences approx two years after the space hulk episode during which time our heroes have been trading and occasionally interfering with various unpleasant people/not-people.
Meyis IV was not a prepossessing planet. Its white sun, while close enough to make the world habitable, was just fractionally too far away to make it comfortable. The planet's average summer temperature was what more pleasant worlds would have considered a mild to cold winter's day. Where it did score, however, was in its axial tilt being tiny, almost negligible. This meant that the difference between midsummer and midwinter was no more than an hour or two of daylight and few degrees in temperature. Since Meyis IV's rotation gave it a twenty-seven hour day/night cycle, and its rolling hills made precipitation a regular occurrence, this meant that most of its surface was suitable for growing the sort of hardy crops that can survive on long days of weak sunlight. This also meant that Meyis IV was cold, damp and fairly miserable, and bred a hardy, tough populace of quite insular and traditional outlook.
Lord Inquisitor Rein Gustavus reflected on this summary as he watched his Deathwatch marines take position. Ignatius had positioned himself near the rear entrance of the building, with brother Jeremiah. The youngest member of the team, Jeremiah had been attached to them only four years before from the Iron Snakes Chapter. He was extremely formidable in close combat, as befitted a former assault marine, and considered Meyis IV to be positively balmy compared to his home planet; the Iron Snakes were based on a barely habitable ice-world populated by, amongst other things, great bear-like predators. Jeremiah had stated that Iron Snakes did not actively hunt the ice bears except on ceremonial occasions, but that it was considered a considerable feat to kill one without resorting to a bolter. Gustavus had had no cause whatsoever to regret the appointment.
At the front of the building, in an alleyway door pretending to be a drunken labourer, was the powerful former Space Wolf Sigurd, who had been with the team for twenty-three years. Relatively short for a space marine, being barely two metres fifteen, Sigurd usually filled this sort of role, as he could just about pass for an ordinary, if very big, man when un-armoured. Tonight he wore a heavy woollen cloak, and thick woollen trews, the normal garb for a middling labourer.
His back-up was the tall, slim (by astartes standards) and utterly deadly Meleriex. Seconded from the Raven Guard seventeen years ago, Gustavus had long since come to the opinion that he had never met any space marine who was quite as efficient a killer. Even Ignatius, himself an utterly lethal combat machine, would be hard-put to take the squad sergeant, he thought. Gustavus had been an Inquisitor for more than a century, and had headed a Deathwatch team for all that time, but he had to admit if only to himself that the black-eyed Raven Guard gave him the chills. If he was typical of the famed but secretive Chapter, it was no wonder they were feared across the galaxy.
Gustavus turned to the fifth and last member of his Deathwatch team, the hard-bitten and much-scarred veteran Tigers Argent space marine Shere, who besides being a competent medican was also their best pilot. Which was why he and Gustavus were still on the small cloaked ship that had brought them to the system. "Any signs that we've been spotted, Shere?"
Shere's dark eyes showed no emotion. They never did, even in combat. "No, Lord Inquisitor. The team are almost in position but there is no movement that might indicate anyone leaving, nor is there any evidence of preparation for defence."
"And you have adequate lock?"
"Yes, Lord Inquisitor. I have a precise fix on Sigurd's beacon. I can put you down within three metres of it at any time."
Gustavus nodded. "Excellent." He spoke into his vox link. "Captain, are you in position?"
The reply was immediate. "We are go on your signal, Lord Gustavus."
He looked to Shere and nodded. "'Port me down."
The man didn't even acknowledge, simply moving the control. There was the familiar, almost painful, sensation and he appeared on a slippery cobbled street. A familiar powerful figure erupted from his doorway and banged a massive fist on a wooden door.
A panel slid open, and a face appeared. "What?"
Sigurd didn't even hesitate, simply booting down the barrier, shattering it to splinters and sending the doorwarden flying. Meleriex appeared from the shadows and was through the door so fast even Gustavus didn't have time to react.
The crackling extension of the marine's lightning claws effectively silenced the room even as men and women started to their feet in confusion. Gustavus stepped past Sigurd, who had produced his bolter from under his cloak and was covering the room with a cold expression.
"Good evening, citizens. Imperial Inquisition. Remain still, in the Emperor's name."
A slight disturbance behind a door to the left was explained when the black-armoured figures of Ignatius and Jeremiah stepped through it, the latter holding a squirming rat-faced man by the neck of his scruffy shirt in one gauntleted hand.
"He appeared to be in a hurry to leave, Lord Inquisitor," said Jeremiah mildly.
Gustavus nodded.
"No-one leaves. I really do not recommend you try." He spoke into his vox. "Shere? Anything?"
The reply came through clearly. "The door to your right leads to a large chamber below you, Lord Inquisitor. Twenty-seven readings, both male and female. They do not appear to have noticed anything as yet."
"Good." He glanced at his captain. "Captain, you and brother Jeremiah, with me. Sigurd, cover this room. Meleriex, be ready to back us up if there's any trouble."
He moved to the door indicated, raised his armoured foot casually, and kicked it in.
"A party. A drunken party to celebrate someone's birthday." Gustavus knew his voice was flat and hard. "We blew our cover to interrupt a bunch of pissed-up labourers having a good time."
Ignatius looked no happier. "The intelligence was specific, Lord Inquisitor."
"And wrong."
"And wrong," the other acknowledged. Ignatius very carefully put out of his mind the drunken man who had sleepily belched 'T'Inquisition? Dat's a turn up an' no mishtake,' at his commander before falling over on his bench and starting to snore loudly.
"Well, if any cultists are active in the system, they'll go to ground now. Any suggestions?"
Ignatius shook his head slowly. A Deathwatch kill-team was not exactly designed for undercover investigation; people tended to notice space marines. "Lord Gustavus, we need a target. That means we need information. Perhaps the local authorities might be helpful, though without their knowledge. Your understanding of the methods of the traitor cultists might allow us to determine patterns of corruption where local police and militia fail."
"A vast undertaking, Ignatius. But it may be the only realistic option now." He thought for a long moment. "Well, we are perforce out in the open, so we may as well take what advantage that gives. We shall take a shuttle to the capital and acquire their police archives. Including unsolved issues. Especially unsolved issues."
Ignatius saluted and the two of them headed for the shuttle bay.
"Sedreth," came Sara's voice over the intercom. "Transition in two hours."
Sedreth looked up from his work. He stepped to the com and spoke. "Acknowledged, Sara. I'll be on the bridge in an hour."
"That's fine, Sedreth. Janey's in the kitchen. We'll be eating in about forty minutes."
"Forty minutes. That will be fine."
He smiled to himself. Janey had started to spend a lot of time in the kitchen this last few months. Her cooking was, he admitted, considerably better than his was, though still not the equal of her mother's. Her palate was very experimental, still developing from the over-sweetness of childhood, but her concoctions tended to be tasty and she always made enough even for a marine's appetite.
Since leaving Baal nearly two years before they had travelled by small stages. Typically they spent three or four days in the warp and one or two in realspace, depending very much on the system they came out in. Some systems – most – were uninhabited; the habitable real estate in the galaxy, even with terraforming, was a very small proportion of the total number of stars. But some systems had life; human colonies mostly, though they'd come across a couple of worlds with primitive orks which they had left alone. Non-spacefaring orks were no threat to anyone; they spent their lives fighting each other with spears and clubs and did not disturb the peace of the rest of the galaxy.
They had however run into more advanced orks a few times. Again, in most cases they'd left well enough alone. But they had intervened twice where human colonists had been trying to fight off an ork incursion. He and Sara had 'ported down to engage alongside the outnumbered human forces both times, once successfully, and once only in time to evacuate the remnants of a massacred human population. And once they'd fought against a crude greenskin space vessel; it had been no match for Phoenix's massive batteries.
They'd also hit a pirate raider, about three months after leaving Baal, which had made the mistake of ambushing another vessel when they'd been in the vicinity. The small cargo vessel's captain had been effusively thankful. But mostly, they'd been quietly moving in the general direction of Terra, anti-clockwise round the galactic centre, trading here and there – Sara was getting rather good at that, and Janey was adding world by world and sector by sector to her already well-populated wall-map. Her scrapbook now covered four volumes, and she'd been gradually, without initially planning it, building up a picture of trade routes and materials in the archives which her mother took shameless advantage of. That the ship also contained enormous banks of navigational data from the centuries spent on the Great Crusade – and other things – was an additional useful edge they had over more restricted traders, who tended to stick to known profitable routes and relatively rigid (given the vagaries of the warp) timetables.
Thus at present they carried several hundred tons of various goods in holds that had once carried thousands of tons of military hardware. Although thanks to the Blood Angels they carried a significant ammunition supply also.
He smiled slightly and bent back to the tools and the fractal-edged monosteel blade he was patiently engraving; he had only two more days to finish it.
"Janey, what do we have in inventory which would be tradeable here?"
Janey smiled at her mother as she ran through the data coming in from the local space station. "They are indicating a desire for heavy metals – refined, not ores – light manufactured goods, spare machine parts, and spices. Main exports, according to records, are agricultural produce – mostly a local grain which has good storage and nutritional properties. Just another ag world, mummy. Except that it's colder than most, and quite short of metals, so it doesn't have the usual population excess. One guard regiment, no military action for more than thirty years."
"Hmm. A bit of a backwater then? That will be nice. We might be able to unload those components from the manufactorium on Krendor."
Janey nodded. "We should maybe look at the woods, mummy. I was lookin' at it last night. Meyis has very big trees which take a long time to mature. The wood is used here for building and is supposed to be very durable and resistant to damp. The old records say that they used to export it, but the planet was used as a World Eater base during the Heresy, an' there was a big battle with the Blood Angels. After that there wasn't much trade, so I don't think anyone buys it now."
Sedreth nodded. "An interesting idea, Janey. The records of what was once traded have mostly been lost. Trade almost shut down in some quadrants during the immediate aftermath of the Rebellion; there was war, and not just between Horus' Legions and the Emperor's, but also against various non-human species, for several centuries before the Imperium got stable enough to revive trade in a major way. I expect that the need to survive and the economic instability of those times prevented anyone taking up the wood trade again. It is after all bulky and not a likely source of profit for most traders. But a developing colony, or a world desirous of luxury status symbols – such as imported wood panellings and carved goods – might be interested."
"That's what I thought too, Mr Morgan. I thought it might be nice to send some panels to Baal, you know, as a memorial to their victory from a world the Blood Angels saved?"
"It might, Janey, but really, that should be a gift from the planet and its people, don't you think?"
Janey thought for a moment, her small face, still a little childish at nearly thirteen, screwed up in the same intense concentration she brought to her lessons. Then she nodded. "Yes, mummy, that would be better. But we can't speak for the Blood Angels, so how do we persuade the people to do something like that?"
Sedreth smiled briefly. Janey's depth of thought was precise; she always cut to the chase. "I have a suggestion. There must be memorials here, to the Ninth's Fallen, and to their victory. We should visit them – maybe visit every single one. And at the same time, we trade for the best quality hardwoods they have, for say, our own chapel. Someone will take the hint."
"That's clever, Mr Morgan."
Sub-lieutenant Katrin Verstark watched her monitor screens closely, with the careful concentration of one for whom scan was not quite second nature. INS Golden Dawn was her first ship assignment since graduating from the Naval Academy, and she was determined not to make any mistakes. Four years of training as a cadet, and one assigned to basically clerical work before managing to get onto a scan officer's course had been a long struggle for a provincial farm-girl. It was a struggle that she intended to be worthwhile,and now, just two hours into her first basically independent scan watch, she felt nervous and excited despite herself.
She looked round at her immediate senior, Lieutenant Hethlin, whose dark skin was still exotic to someone raised on Meyis, where men and women tended to be pale and blond. Or red-haired, like she was.
"Sir, a new arrival in system. Rogue trader vessel Eyes of the Phoenix. Incoming from Krendor via Nils Point. She's requesting permission to dock at station for trade."
Hethlin nodded. "Keep an eye on it; if it deviates from standard course I want to know."
"Yes, sir." She turned back to her screens. That large trader Prosperity's Luck was a bit closer than they should be. Again. She sent the message to the nav officer, copying Lieutenant Hethlin per his previous instruction. Hethlin glanced at her as he acknowledged the message, making her feel a bit more confident.
Junior Controller Reti watched the scans. That trader was getting too close to the military picket. He cursed quietly. As usual, Supervisor Plortis was off in a meeting, so he didn't technically have the authority to order a change of course unless the picket did so first. He noted that the new arrival, the rogue trader ship, was precisely on course. A nice change. Most traders were a bit vague about courses; they stayed in lanes, of course, but needed regular advice to keep them that way. Talking of which... he reached for the pickup.
"Trade-ship Silver Plume, this is Meyis control. Your current course will take you out of lane parameters. Please adjust your heading."
Sara brought Phoenix in to their assigned dock. Janey was on the comms, arranging with the local station what goods to place for offer, and searching for downworld accommodation. They'd decided to spend a day or two exploring the planet; it would coincide with Janey's twelfth birthday anyway, and they always tried to have a special meal on birthdays.
Sedreth was going to go down in civilian dress; he shouldn't really have been able to pass for anything but what he was, but the 'bodyguard' story seemed to pass muster on most worlds. Of course, most worlds never saw a space marine. They'd be armed of course; personal blades, and since the bodyguard license arranged before they'd arrived on Plett was still valid, Sedreth was thus entitled to carry a single projectile weapon, suitable for one-handed use only. Sara smiled slightly to herself; she very much doubted that 'one-handed use only' had ever been intended to include astartes sidearms. Sedreth would therefore carry the bolt pistol he'd been given by brother-sergeant Quinn. It had a Blood Angels sigil on it, and Sedreth always carried it these days, like a talisman, even more than the Saint's Feather attached to his Terminator armour. She couldn't blame him; it meant much much more to him than just a weapon. Desial, rather than his sergeant, had Sedreth's own bolt pistol; sergeant Quinn had said it deserved the squad's best marksman.
They took the slightly rickety-looking public shuttle, Janey leafing through the guidebook and explaining how the orbit of the planet caused it to be slightly cooler than most agricultural worlds. A couple of local workers smiled indulgently at the girl, but said nothing beyond a polite greeting. The downworld spaceport had definitely seen better days. While clean and neat, the floors were worn smooth with the passage of many hundreds of feet, and the data terminals were clearly old. A large sign above a simple desk indicated customs, and the balding man behind it gave no more than a cursory glance to their i.d. The aircab wasn't much less worn, though it too appeared to work adequately. The driver struck Sedreth as being less than entirely sober, but traffic was slight enough that he did not worry overmuch. He did linger as his companions went into the small hotel to check in however, to point out that the driver would much rather a conversation about his intoxicated state before he injured or killed Sedreth's charges. Since the conversation took place only millimetres from the man's stubbled features it appeared to be quite effective, and the big marine strolled into the lobby with a faintly satisfied air.
"Mummy, look. It's snowing." Janey gestured at the street outside her room's windows. "It's been ages since we saw snow."
"So it is, darling. Maybe we should wait until it goes off before going up to the monument."
She shook her head. "We can wrap up warm, mummy. And it's not so far. There's a public service to Komer's Point, then it's only a klick or so."
Mummy thought for a moment. "Tell you what. We'll get something to eat first, and if the snow is off after that we'll go up to the monument. If not, we'll do a bit of research, see about the wood and so on, and go tomorrow. That will give us some time to get warmer clothing anyway."
She nodded. Warmer clothing was a good idea. Maybe she could get mummy to buy her one of the pretty furry coats people wore here. "Okay."
"It should be just up here, Mr Morgan," said Janey as they all walked together up the long curving roadway. They'd left the houses behind – real houses, with little gardens and everything, not habs – about five minutes ago, but the roadway was well-marked and easy to follow even though it was mostly covered by snow. A tall column loomed through the nearby trees, and they took a neatly marked path through the snow-laden branches. The path ended in a paved square. The column she'd spotted was of weathered dark grey stone with the Emperor's aquila on top of it, looking out over the valley below.
Mummy walked forward, to where there was old worn inlay, the colours all faded. She knelt and gently brushed some snow away from the red teardrop with one hand.
Mr Morgan walked round it slowly, not saying anything. After a few moments he moved to a position facing the tall column and came to attention, then saluted in the traditional fashion, fist to chest.
She watched them then walked to the monument and brushed away the snow from the writing on it. It was High Gothic, mostly, but there was a small bit in Baal runes as well. She read it aloud, slowly tracing the runes. "In the name of the Primarch and the Emperor the sons of Baal bring vengeance eternal to the forsworn."
Mr Morgan looked at her. "Who taught you the Baal runes, Janey?"
"Brother-tech-captain Vivane, Mr Morgan. I asked him what the decorations meant, and he let me have a book on them so I could translate them for myself."
He nodded. She walked over to him, and so did mummy, then the three of them stood facing the monument for a long moment of silence.
She pulled her new furs round her shoulders and took mummy's hand as they walked back towards the town.
Tam carefully scrunched up a solid ball of snow. Ari and his team were busy throwing at Jules and the rest and he had a free flanking shot. Now! He flung it as hard as he could, just as Marie ducked a shot from someone else. Missed! He ducked a return and scooped up another handful, throwing wildly as the others realised he'd got behind their snow fort and a hail of white snowballs flew towards him. Luckily, Jules led a charge right at that moment and some of the others turned to take them on.
Tam laughed delightedly and, dodging flying balls of damp fluffy snow, ran to join the rest of his team as the fight escalated into a free for all mêlée across the whole playground. It was utterly cool; the biggest fight of the year so far. Even the younger kids were getting involved, and the girls. It was hard to see who was on whose side any more, and he just scooped up snow and flung it at anyone aiming at him or his friends closest to him.
He saw Jess sneaking along the wall and threw at her without thinking. She laughed as his snowball flew high and over the railings. Oops. That big man was going to ... wow. A huge hand spun round and he caught it. Then looked over at Tam with a suddenly wicked expression. He wasn't. He was. The snowball whizzed back at him, far faster than any kid could have thrown it, and exploded into fragments on his hip. The big man winked and Tam suddenly saw another snowball headed for him; the girl beside the big man had thrown one too, giggling, and she didn't throw like a girl either. Tam dodged it, just, and laughed, reaching for more snow.
Jules and the rest had noticed now, and about half the kids were throwing snowballs at the big man and the girl and the woman with them who were all laughing and throwing back as fast as they could. The two grown-ups were really fast, dodging and throwing and occasionally slapping a snowball out of the air in a shower of white flakes. The girl, much smaller than the other two, was more deliberate, concentrating on dodging and picking targets. She was really good at picking people who were ducking for more snow. Tam grinned as he caught the big man on a fur-clad shoulder and ducked hurriedly as a return snowball as big as his head smacked meatily into the wall just beside him.
"What is going on here?" came a high feminine voice. Miss Shadrell. Aw. Just when it was getting good. He turned to look at the teacher as she came out of the entrance door wrapped in the big green cloak that disguised her fatness. All the kids were moving away, not to be noticed.
The big man chuckled. "Just a bit of high spirits, sera. No harm was done."
Miss Shadrell gave him a suspicious look. Before she could speak, the woman stepped toward her and spoke in a soft calm voice. "My daughter hasn't seen snow in a long time, sera. We're sorry if it caused any problems."
Miss Shadrell sniffed. Tam had noticed she did that a lot, and had always been grateful that he'd never had her a class teacher. She said, "Madame, this is not a public holiday. Your daughter should be in school, not throwing snowballs," in a disapproving voice.
The woman smiled. "My daughter does not attend any school, sera. Myself and Morgan here are responsible for her education. I am quite happy with the quality of it."
The girl smiled slightly, caught his eye and grinned with real mischief. Miss Shadrell looked even more sniffy, but simply nodded. "In that case, since the interval bell has rung, I shall send our own pupils back to their classes."
"Of course," said the woman. The big man behind her made a couple of unsuccessful attempts to brush snow of his heavy fur cloak, then shrugged it off, shaking it out with a sharp crack.
"He's got a gun!" shrieked Miss Shadrell, backing up. Tam looked. Wow. That was a big pistol. Miss Shadrell was shooing the children back into the school. The big man looked faintly amused.
Then Mr Brend came out too.
"What is going on here?" he asked. Miss Shadrell turned to him.
"That man, he has a gun."
The man stepped forward to speak and Miss Shadrell took one look, clutched a hand to her chest, and collapsed.
"She's fainted," said the woman. "I'm sorry, we didn't mean to cause any trouble."
Mr Brend looked at Tam and gave him an inquiring look. He blushed and ran in after the others.
"I'm Sara Tarken. We were just passing and sort of got involved in your students' snow fight."
The little man nodded. "That is alright, sera. Judit always was a bit high-strung."
Sedreth stepped forward. "Allow me." He scooped up the fat grey-haired woman easily and carried her carefully into the warmth of the buildings. Janey followed the adults, looking around with interest.
"I am vice-principal Brend. Thank you, sir, if you would just lay her down here while I get the nurse." He glanced at a boy, and said, "Olyn, go and fetch Nurse. Quickly boy." The boy dashed off.
Brend turned to Sara. "Are you intending to enrol your daughter, sera?"
Sara shook her head. "No. We are only here for a few days. For trade and to celebrate Janey's birthday."
He nodded. "Of course. You'll pardon me, but this is not exactly a locality frequented by traders, or tourists."
"We were visiting the memorial."
"Oh. Yes. It's very old. Much older than the town actually. It commemorates a great victory for the Emperor's space marines shortly after the defeat of the heretics at the Siege of Terra."
Sedreth nodded. "It is well cared-for." He did not try to hide his approval and the little man looked pleased.
"Yes. It's a traditional duty of the local children to keep the square clear. There's a thanksgiving service every Emperor's Day and every Sanguinial. The monument was raised by the Blood Angels themselves." He sounded proud, as well he might.
The boy arrived with a plump woman in her fifties wearing a white smock. She bustled over to the fat teacher who was coming round.
Brned continued, "It is unusual to see anyone carrying a pistol on planet. While many of the local families have hunting rifles and so on, handguns are frowned on, even if licensed."
Sedreth nodded. "I understand. However my duty to captain Tarken and her daughter must, I am afraid, override any cultural issues."
The fat woman started up again and the adults moved round her. Janey took advantage to grin at the boy.
"Good fight," he said. "You don't throw like a girl."
She smiled. "I practice. Mr Morgan thinks I should know how to throw. I've never thrown snow before though."
"You haven't? You can't be from around here then. We have snowball fights all the time in winter."
She shook her head. "I'm not. We're just docked for a few days."
"Oh, you're from downriver? I heard it doesn't snow much on the plains by the sea."
"No, silly. Docked at the station. Mummy's a rogue trader."
His eyes grew wide. "Wow. I wish I could go in a starship."
"It's okay. It gets lonely sometimes. I'm the only child on board. And everyone's busy a lot of the time."
"Yeah, but you get to see other worlds. That must be so cool."
She nodded. "It's nice. Some places are really nice. But there's a lot of worlds which aren't very nice. Not as nice as this one."
"Which is the nicest one then?"
She thought for a few minutes. "Canth. And Macragge. Plett III's nice too, but I didn't like Plett IV."
"You've been to Macragge?"
She nodded. "About six years ago. Mummy had to get salvage rights to our new ship confirmed."
"Did you see the Throne?"
"Of the Primarch? Yes. Lord Guilleman was very stern-looking. And handsome. There were lots of other people there too, thousands and thousands."
"Have you been to Terra?"
She shook her head. "No. I don't know if we'll go there. Mummy sort of goes where we can trade. So we're on Meyis for hardwoods, 'cos you used to sell them, long ago, and mummy thinks there could be a market for good quality woods. Not every planet still has forests."
"But what would anyone use wood for, when they have so many other things to build from?"
"Oh, not just for building. But for decoration; like the doors to a chapel, or carved screens, or panelling on a wall. Wood makes a room feel sort of warm and homey."
"Oh. Right. I guess." He suddenly grinned. "Did you see any space marines on Macragge?"
She grinned back. "We were assigned to a military dock. There were Ultramarines and Black Templars on the dockside."
A voice interrupted them. "Having fun, Olyn?"
He gulped. "Sorry, Mr Brend."
The vice-principal gave a brief smile. "Off to class with you, boy."
He nodded. "Bye."
She gave a shy wave. "Bye."
Mr Brend turned to her. "You shouldn't fill his head with stories about space marines, miss Tarken. He'll spend more time dreaming than at his studies."
She nodded. That might not be good. Studies were important. "Sorry, sir. I should have told him we hadn't seen any."
He nodded. "Quite. However, done is done. Captain Tarken, it was nice to meet you. I hope your trading brings prosperity to you and Meyis both."
Mummy smiled. "I am sure we will find areas of mutual profit. Once again, my apologies for all the excitement." She held out her hand and Janey took it.
"Goodbye, ser Brend. Emperor's Grace."
He nodded. "Goodbye, young lady. His blessings on you and your friends."
Mummy shook hands with him and the three of them went back the way they'd come, through the playground and down the long curving road towards the town again. Mummy squeezed her hand.
"Are you alright, darling?"
She nodded. "I guess. I just didn't notice before."
"I know. It would be nice to have some more people aboard, maybe some children your age. But I don't think they could manage with all the stuff we do. Not like you."
She smiled. "Mmm. That boy was jealous 'cos we get to go places. I guess we all want something different sometimes."
Mr Morgan nodded. "Indeed. But it is getting on. I suggest we find somewhere to dine. It has been some time since breakfast and you two need to eat in temperatures like these."
The little shopping area was quiet, with just a few women and very young children in evidence. A small café, brightly painted in blue and green, was Janey's venue of choice and proved to have a nice line in warm nourishing soup and well-filled sandwiches. It was getting on for sixteen hundred standard when they finished and was dark.
"Mummy, why is it getting dark? The variation in daylight, even in winter is only an hour or so."
Sedreth smiled. "Indeed, Janey, but your chrono is set to ship-time. This part of the planet is about three hours ahead of that. So it's seven or so in the evening here."
She flushed, feeling stupid. "Doesn't that mean we won't be able to get transport back to the hotel?"
Mummy nodded. "It might be quite awkward. But it's only five klicks or so even if we can't get transport, and downhill at that. Even this late, that's not a problem."
She nodded, accepting that. "If we're going to walk that far, can I have another cake, then?"
Mummy laughed. "I think we should all have one."
And they did, with whipped creamy stuff and lovely gooey icing.
When they were finished and had paid, and mummy and her had gone to pee, it was getting quite dark. So they started off in the direction of town.
There were lots more people about now, all of them bundled up in heavy cloaks and furs against the cold. They all seemed to be heading the same way, and Mr Morgan tilted his head in that way he had when he was asking an obvious question. Mummy nodded, and the three of them joined the crowds.
After a little walk, no more than a klick, they could see a big sign glowing in the dark. It read 'Trad 2nite. All welcome.'
"What's trad, mummy?"
"I don't know. Why don't we find out?"
They all went in through a pair of double doors, and along a short corridor. Some people were handing their cloaks and outer clothing in at a booth with a pretty girl at it, and everyone was talking happily. Then the corridor opened up and there was a wide space with lots of benches and tables. On one side was a long wooden bar, sort of worn, but with lots of bottles of stuff displayed behind it. Beside the bar was a serving hatch and women in aprons were carrying big wooden platters of food to the tables.
"Let's get a seat, darling," said mummy, and led them to a table near the side away from the bar. Mr Morgan leant back against the wall behind them; the bench was too small for him. One of the serving women came over and asked them if they wanted the standard or special. Mummy said standard and the woman went away with a smile. She came back a couple of minutes later with a large jug and some pottery goblets, then one of the other women put a huge platter in the centre of the table with a basket of bread and a stack of plates. The platter was piled high with meat and roasted vegetables in greens and oranges and reds and yellows, and smelt really good.
A couple, a bit older than mummy, smiled and sat down at their table. The man had a big knife at his hip and a thick bushy brown beard with some grey in it; the woman was a bit younger with a pretty yellow ribbon in her hair which matched the flowers on her shirt.
"Hello," said the woman. "I'm Shirl, and this is my husband Kev. I hope you don't mind, but it's normal here for people to just sit where they like, to meet new friends. We've met all sorts of people on trad nights. This your first, is it?"
Mummy smiled back. "Is it that obvious?" She took a plate from Shirl and passed another to Janey.
The man, Kev, laughed. "A bit. The regulars, people who really like to come, tend to dress the part, sort of rustic. Folks who're just curious don't."
Mummy was about to say something when the lights went sort of dim and a man stepped onto the platform at the end of the room.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to another night of traditional music and dancing. We're going to start off the fun in a second, but first, for our new friends who are here for the first time, can I have a big welcome from our regulars."
There was a small round of applause and a few loud hellos. Then a small group of people took their places on stools and the announcer man said, "And now, without further ado, here's our house band. Give them a big round of applause and let's get our night under way."
Everyone clapped and the people on stools started to play music. It was really nice music, soft and gentle but sort of bouncy and fun at the same time, with a beat you could clap along to and tap your foot.
Kev piled some food on mummy's plate, and a bit less on hers, then served Shirl and himself, and another couple who joined the table with a boy a bit older than she was. In between tunes they managed to speak a bit, and she found out that his name was Brital, or Bri for short. There was a long history of traditional dances and music on Meyis, especially in winter.
"It gives us all a nice way to pass the time on cold winter nights," said Bri's father with a grin.
After a bit the band took a break and mummy and Kev and Shirl and Bri's parents chatted about trade and the different types of wood.
She told Bri about their trip to the monument at Komer's Point and he nodded eagerly.
"There's a service held there every Sanguinial," he said. "It's very solemn; the Blood Angels won a great victory against the forces of the arch-heretic here and we give thanks for that and pray that their Fallen rest at peace with the Angel Saint Sanguinius and the Emperor. And every Emperor's day the local councilmen lay a wreath in memory."
She nodded. "That's good. When someone dies to protect someone else they should be remembered."
"Yes. Oh, I like this one. You want to dance?"
She blushed. "I don't know how."
He laughed. "Come on, I'll show you."
She looked at mummy, who nodded. "Go ahead, darling. It's your birthday tomorrow, so enjoy yourself."
She smiled and took Bri's offered hand letting him lead her onto the dance floor where they took places in a line of clapping couples. She quickly got the hang of it, laughing and bouncing along with the rest. Dancing was fun, she decided.
After a few dances – not all with Bri – she was leaning against mummy feeling quite tired and sleepy; they'd all eaten quite a lot as well as danced and sung along. The announcer man came back on and spoke quietly.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, as we finish our night of celebration and merriment, it is time to remember. We remember our families and friends, who have gone on before us into the Emperor's Light and who we will all meet again someday. And in token on those honoured ancestors, the band will now play the oldest song we know. A song of distant Terra, a song so old its words need translation for us today, for the language of this ancient tune is no longer spoken amongst the worlds of the Imperium. It is a song of warriors, a song remembering a conflict that happened long before humanity left its cradle to stride amongst the stars. My friends, this tune comes from a single land on Holy Terra, a land from which many of our ancestors came to make their homes here. Gentlemen, in your own time," he gestured to the band who started to play a soft melody.
Above the players, written words shone in the air,
"When I was a young man, I carried my pack,
And I lived the free life of a rover,
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915 my country said, 'Son,
It's time to stop rambling,
'cos there's work to be done.'
And they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun,
And they sent me away to the war.
And the band played Waltzing Matilda,
As the ship sailed away from the quay,
And amidst all the tears,
And the shouts and the cheers,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.
How well I remember that terrible day,
When the blood stained the sand and the water,
And how in that Hell that they called Suvla Bay,
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk he was ready,
He'd primed himself well,
He showered us with bullets and he rained us with shell,
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell,
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
And the band played Waltzing Matilda,
As we stopped to bury our slain,
And we buried ours,
And the Turks buried theirs,
Then it started all over again.
Well, those who were living did their best to survive,
In that mad world of death blood and fire.
And for seven long weeks I kept myself alive,
While the corpses around me piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell,
Knocked me arse over tit,
And when I awoke in my hospital bed,
And saw what it had done,
Christ, I wished I was dead.
Never knew there were worse things than dying.
And no more I'll go Waltzing Matilda,
To the green bushes so far and near,
For to hang tents and pegs,
A man needs two legs,
No more Waltzing Matilda for me.
So they collected the cripples, the wounded and maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The legless, the armless, the blind and insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where my legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was nobody,
Waiting for me.
To grieve and to mourn and to pity.
And the band played Waltzing Matilda,
As they carried us down the gangway,
But nobody cheered,
They just stood and stared,
And they turned their faces away.
And now every April I sit on my porch,
And I watch the parade pass before me.
I see my old comrades,
How proudly they march,
Reliving the dreams of past glory.
I see the old men,
All twisted and torn,
The forgotten heroes of a forgotten war,
And the young people ask me,
What are they marching for,
And I ask myself the same question.
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men still answer the call,
But year after year,
Their numbers get fewer,
Some day no-one will march there at all.
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda,
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me."
There was a huge round of applause as the song finished and the band leader spoke quietly.
"That ancient song speaks of the treatment of brave warriors who returned home wounded from service. Here on Meyis, we have a proud tradition amongst our people of entering the Emperor's service. But, here, we honour our fallen and our injured. Here, we do not turn our faces away. And here, we will always answer the Emperor's call."
There was a massive round of applause and a few cheers. The man lifted his goblet and waited for silence.
"For our fallen. For our service people. For the Emperor."
All around the hall people lifted goblets and mugs and held them high.
"For the Emperor." It echoed through the room for a long moment, then someone started to sing, a familiar hymn of praise that she and mummy had sung in church with daddy. She found tears in her eyes even as she joined in. Someone squeezed her hand gently and she met mummy's eyes which were as full as her own. They smiled at each other as the old song finished. People were filing out, smiles on their faces. Kev and Shirl shook hands with mummy and Bri and his parents did too, then Mr Morgan was there, wrapping mummy's cloak round her and helping her into her comfy new fur cloak. He smiled gravely as they walked out of the building and turned down the road towards the town. It was dark and starting to snow softly and she was glad of the hood of her warm cloak.
"Did you enjoy that, darling?"
She nodded. "It was really nice, mummy. I liked dancing. And the songs were really nice. Especially the last one before the hymn, even though it was kind of sad."
"It was, wasn't it?"
"Do you think it really is as old as they said?"
Mr Morgan's voice was thoughtful "It is possible. I have heard the language before. It is an ancient Terran dialect called Ing-glic. The natives of a world we brought into compliance during the Crusade spoke it. And one of the ancient continents of Terra was – is still – called Stralia."
"Oh, yes. It was on my hologram." She thought for a while. That was really old. "Mummy, what does 1915 mean? Is that some sort of date?"
"It might be, I suppose. What do you think, Morgan?"
"Indeed. If it were put in our terms it would be, I think, year 915 of the second millennium."
She giggled suddenly. "That's even older than you, Mr Morgan."
"Thank you, Janey. I appreciate being reminded that I am not young any more."
She giggled again. "Neither am I. I'm thirteen today."
"Positively ancient. I shall arrange a walking stick for you to use with your exercises."
Everyone laughed. It was nice to see Mr Morgan laugh; he'd been sort of sad for a long time.
Mitty watched in his viocular as the three fur-cloaked figures approached through the snow. A man, very tall, probably enhanced in some way, a woman and a child. The man had to be a bodyguard of some sort. He signalled the others quietly. Everyone concentrate on the bodyguard. Rook could grab the girl, and Snee and Ros the woman. He didn't know why that creep Kathcart wanted them – slaving probably – and didn't care. The money was good and that was what mattered. He signalled the rest to be ready on his action.
"Lord Inquisitor, the snatch gang has spotted targets and are moving into position. But there is a problem."
"What, captain?"
"One of the targets is astartes. In civilian clothes and escorting a woman and child, but my helmet autosenses are not mistaken. He is a space marine. And big, even for one of us."
"Why would a space marine be escorting a woman and child?"
"I do not know, Lord Inquisitor. But the gang are in for a very unpleasant surprise."
"Blast it. Move your men into position. Try and take a few of these scum alive."
"Yes, Lord Inquisitor."
Gustavus cut the connection with a quiet curse. What in the Emperor's name was a space marine doing incognito on this benighted backwater? He wondered if the man had any connection with the cultists he was hunting, then discounted it. Chaos marines were never seen outside their armour; they were in his experience too altered by their allegiance to the ruinous powers to pass for human. He moved silently forward.
Mitty chuckled to himself, and stepped out to confront the victims.
"All right. Stop right there," he said confidently. The big man's hand moved and there was a shattering concussion. He saw a flare of light from the muzzle of some sort of pistol then his chest exploded in pain. He looked down at the ground just at his nose. Wha...
Even as Sedreth opened fire, Sara and Janey split, diving for opposite sides of the street. A wiry man rose out of the darkness with a knife in his hand.
Rook grinned. "Come quietly, little one and no-one will get hurt."
She grinned right at him and was suddenly – how could any child move so fast? – inside his reach. There was sudden pain in his gut and he looked down to see the golden hilt of an Imperial combat knife driven up into his chest. The world went black.
Gustavus watched in amazement as the two females dived sideways, directly towards the waiting gang members, blades suddenly shining in their hands. There were a couple of soft cries, barely audible above the hard sharp crack of the marine's bolt pistol as he sought and found targets.
"Captain, move in, fast as you can while there's any of them left to capture."
Tia watched her mates getting taken apart and decided discretion was the better part of valour. She turned to run and a huge armoured hand wrapped itself round her face. She tried to scream but had no breath. She tried to stab but her blade bounced off something hard and pain erupted in her arm. Something smacked into her head and she saw stars then merciful darkness took her.
Janey's voice came from the deep shadow of the wall she'd been against, "Just one here. He's dead. Clear, Mr Morgan."
Sara answered her. "Two here. Both dead. Clear, Morgan."
"I saw six, got five. One unaccounted for. But we have other company."
Sedreth paused, still and ready to fire, as other shapes coalesced out of the swirling snow. Battle-armoured space marines moved out of the shadows, all in black but for the Chapter insignia on their left shoulders.
"Easy brother," said one, in a semi-growl. His left shoulder was the yellow, and bore the symbol, of the Space Wolves.
He cursed quietly. Deathwatch; it had to be. "I'm easy, brother. My apologies. We didn't know there was a Deathwatch team here." He holstered his pistol, absently loading a fresh clip as he did so.
Janey came into the open, her combat knife sheathed, dragging a body across the slippery snow. Sara came from the other direction, dark eyes calm.
"What's Deathwatch, Mr Morgan?" asked Janey curiously.
"Elite team, Janey, assigned to an Inquisitor. Talking of which, where is the Inquisitor?"
A third marine, entirely black-armoured but for the white stylised raven on his shoulder, appeared, silent, from the shadows. He had an unconscious woman slung casually over his shoulder.
"The Lord Inquisitor is with brother-captain Ignatius. Captain Tarken, is it not?"
Sara nodded. "Have we met, brother-sergeant?"
"We have not been introduced, but Lord Gustavus and brother-captain Ignatius met you at Devsparts. I am brother-sergeant Meleriex."
Sara nodded. "I remember meeting the Lord Inquisitor. It is an honour to meet you all. Have we interfered in something?"
The Raven Guard nodded, just the barest movement of his helmet. "Regrettably, yes. We were tracking this group of criminals in order that they could lead us to larger game. But you are not to be blamed for defending yourselves. Your daughter is most skilled, for one so young."
Two more armoured figures walked together out of a side-alley, one a black-armoured space marine, dragging an unconscious body by its legs, the other a tall grim man armoured in deep crimson and gold. The Lord Inquisitor nodded courteously.
"Captain Tarken. A pleasure to meet you again. Your bodyguard is most proficient. I gather that you are, then, an agent of the Ultramarines?"
Sara shook her head. "I am an agent of the Emperor, Lord Gustavus. Brother-sergeant Sedreth is not an Ultramarine."
Janey looked down at the body behind her and spoke softly. "I'm sorry, Mr Morgan. He wasn't very dangerous. I should have taken him alive."
He looked at her and shook his head. "You should not. An unknown opponent is dangerous. Let me worry about prisoners, Janey. Until you are old enough to wear armour, it is better if you ensure your opponents are beyond harm. Killing is safest."
She nodded. "I wish I hadn't smiled at him though."
He nodded, briefly ignoring the Deathwatch team. "Indeed. But you did not kill him out of malice or cruelty, but in self-defence. The smile gave him pause for a fatal second. It was a good tactical decision."
She looked up at him. "Can I say a prayer for him?"
"Of course. Whatever his deeds may have been, it is right to regret the necessity of taking his life." He looked round at the watching squad. A small pile of corpses now lay in the street, dragged there by the space marines. He recognised codex chapter insignia; Space Wolves, Raven Guard, Blood Ravens (the captain) and Iron Snakes.
Gustavus was about to speak when his com-unit buzzed. "Yes?"
His enhanced hearing was sufficiently good to hear the answer. "Lord Gustavus, I just picked up a teleport signal from your vicinity."
"Incoming?"
"Negative. It was a single signal; just one person."
"We were observed. Can you trace the signal?"
"Not with the scans available. I'd need full military scans, Lord Gustavus."
The Inquisitor nodded briefly. "Very well, stay alert, Shere. Inform me of anything else." He turned to Sara. "Captain, as I recall, your vessel is ex-military, correct?"
She nodded. "Indeed, Lord Gustavus. Eyes of the Phoenix is a Raptor-class strike destroyer. With some modifications."
Meleriex glanced at her, alertness in every fibre of his being. "I was under the impression that the Raven Guard alone maintained a vessel of this class, captain?"
Sara looked at him levelly. "My ship was found uncrewed, brother-sergeant. I applied for salvage, and Lord Commander Calgar confirmed my legal right to the entire ship. She's rather better protected than most traders, so I kept her."
"Do her scans retain full facility?"
"Yes, Lord Inquisitor. We were able to marry them with the scans of the battle-barge Eternal Wrath during operations against the space hulk Heresy of Corruption twenty-seven months ago."
"You engaged in operations alongside the Blood Angels?" Gustavus looked surprised for a second.
"Indeed, Lord Inquisitor. Since we were the ones who found the accursed hulk in the first place we were ordered to remain on station until it had been dealt with. It was our honour to be able to assist in a small way."
The Inquisitor nodded sharply. "Then, captain, I am going to have to commandeer your ship. I need to trace a teleport signal."
"Of course, Lord Inquisitor. We are at your service."
"Good. Kindly order your crew to 'port us up."
Janey spoke. "Mummy, don't. Lord Inquisitor, if we 'port up we could disrupt any trace of the signal. We'd be better off flying up in a shuttle."
Sedreth nodded. "Lord Inquisitor, Janey has been running scan since she could read. I suggest she is correct."
The man looked at him thoughtfully. "Very well. Have you.. no. I shall have Shere come down for us. We can take the corpses for examination also. And our sleeping 'guests'."
The captain looked at him. "Lord Inquisitor, a shuttle will be noticed."
"True, but if we are observed anyway, it is of little consequence. Contact Shere and have him come down for us."
"As you command, Lord Gustavus." The man spoke into his vox quietly.
Gustavus looked at Janey. "You know a lot for one so young, child. Where did you learn to use a blade?"
She smiled up at him. "Mr Morgan trains me. And mummy too."
"Does he indeed? And do you train in other weapons also?"
She nodded. "I train unarmed, and with a bolt pistol. I have to use both hands for that though. And when Mr Morgan was hurt brother-sergeant Quinn and brother-captain Esceriel let me practice with them."
"Do you like training with space marines?"
She grinned. "Yes! Space marines are really fast and strong and so good at fighting. It's fun. Hard, but fun all the same."
Gustavus smiled gravely. "It is good to know we have a company of astartes to call on."
She shook her head. "Oh no. Captain Esceriel and sergeant Quinn are back on Baal with the rest of the Blood Angels. Only Mr Morgan stays on Phoenix. But why would you need a whole company of space marines anyway?" She blushed and hesitated, then went on. "I mean, you have Blood Ravens and Space Wolves and Raven Guard and – I'm sorry, I don't recognise your insignia?"
Sedreth spoke before anyone else could. "He is of the Iron Snakes Chapter, Janey. A descendant chapter of the Ultramarines. Third Founding, I believe?"
The man shook his head briefly. "Second," he corrected.
She and Sedreth both nodded an acknowledgement. He went on. "And Lord Gustavus doesn't have whole companies, or even squads, of these chapters. These warriors are armoured in black because they are part of a Deathwatch kill-team. Such teams are usually only five or six strong."
"Oh. Sorry, Lord Gustavus."
Sedreth continued. "That said, a kill-team is made up of the finest warriors amongst all the chapters. Only the very best take service with the Deathwatch, and it is a great honour to serve so. I have no doubt that all of these men are the equal of three or four ordinary marines."
Sara chuckled. "Since when was there such a thing as an 'ordinary' space marine, Morgan?" She looked up as light blazed in the sky. "That appears to be your shuttle, Lord Gustavus. Shall we?"
The Inquisitor gave her a long look, then nodded and led the way to the landing shuttle.
The 'shuttle' was an armed and armoured Thunderhawk dropship, almost identical to the ones the Blood Angels had used, except for being black and bearing the stylised 'I' of the Imquisition. Another black-armoured marine was at the hatch, bolter in hand. The insignia on his shoulder was a snarling feline head in silver striped in black. He watched them until the Space Wolf had taken over his position, then moved back into the flight cabin. They all strapped in, Janey on her mother's lap with the belts across them both.
The ship erupted almost vertically upwards, and Sara called their docking assignment across to the pilot, getting a terse acknowledgement.
The heavy-set Space Wolf took off his helmet, revealing a thick, greying moustache and two long braids of brown hair, also streaked with grey. His canines were longer than normal, increasing his innate impression of a dangerous predator. He gave a brief nod then spoke. "Brother Sigurd. You were involved in action with the Blood Angels, brother-sergeant Sedreth?"
He nodded. "Indeed. I teleported across to the hulk with additional ammunition for three squads of Terminators cut off by genestealers. We were able to hold out until relieved by the Third Company under brother-captain Esceriel."
The grim-faced Blood Raven captain nodded. "That is a Blood Angels bolt pistol you carry."
"Brother Desial carries mine."
"I have heard of brother-captain Esceriel. He is a fine warrior."
Sedreth nodded. "Very. Had he been any less skilled we would all have died. I have to admit that I have seen less welcome things than a company of Blood Angels coming to my assistance."
Sigurd gave a sharp bark of laughter. "I can imagine. How many 'stealers?"
He shook his head. "I don't know, but three squads of Terminators lost half their strength and ran out of ammunition killing the damned things. As did Esceriel's devastator squads. A lot."
"You were wounded?"
He shrugged. "Caught a claw in the chest. I was out of action for four months. My armour was ruined. Even tech-captain Vivane couldn't see a way to fix it."
The space marines all grimaced. "A bad thing, to lose armour that way."
Sedreth nodded. "It protected me well, though."
"Great Emperor, is that your ship, captain?" asked Sigurd in amazement, looking out of the viewing port. Sara nodded.
The Space Wolf shook his head. "Lord Calgar must have had pressing reasons to allow you to keep a ship like that."
"I don't try to guess Lord Calgar's mind, brother Sigurd. Do you wish to use the ship's own dock, Lord Inquisitor?"
"No. We shall take the landing platform and then brother Shere will take our guests to my ship."
Sara inclined her head in acceptance.