The hospital was not as crowded as it had been. The orderly – a real human, not a servitor – pushed her along an almost deserted corridor which only a few days ago had carried constant traffic. Most of the militia wounded had returned to homes, to take stock and start the long process of rebuilding. The Naval troopers were most of them back on Piety, finally repaired after two long months. It felt lonely without the bustle. Just the seemingly endless therapy, repair of back muscles and nerves torn apart by a xenos claw when they'd briefly been over-run.
She'd been lucky, she supposed. Only a dozen people had lived long enough for Colonel Avers' suicidal counter-attack to retake the position. Only two had survived their injuries. Sergeant Mihael had headed home two days ago, honourably discharged and with only one arm.
She'd been lucky, too, that the local tech-priests had synthesised an antivenin for citizens injured by the xenos. That antivenin had helped reduce the neurotoxin damage from xenos injuries not just for her but for tens of thousands of others, or so she'd been told.
She levered herself painfully out of the chair, wincing as her back flared in pain. That was good, they said. It meant that the nerves were regenerating. The orderly helped her onto the therapeutor. She felt the familiar prick of anaesthesia and fell into dreamless darkness.
Commissar Dietrik Peiper saluted the aquila as he stepped onto the familiar deck. It was good to be back on Piety at last. Colonel Avers was there to meet him, and he took the offered hand with his remaining one. He almost looked around for Harvey, then remembered the man was dead. It seemed like only yesterday rather than nearly a month ago.
They walked in silence to the lift, then up to the troop-decks, and finally to the colonel's briefing room. Avers waved him to a seat, not standing on protocol, then stepped to a cabinet and poured them both a drink.
"I read your report, Commissar. Impressive. You'll be pleased to know that Harvey is up for a medal."
He nodded. "He earned it. Without his skill,..." he paused, then went on. "Colonel, I formally request additional tactical training. If Major Harvey had not countermanded one of my orders we could have lost many more than we did."
Avers nodded. "I understand. You're not the first Commissar to stand his ground wrongly." He took a short drink of the amber liquid. "Don't dwell on it. Tactical skills can be improved. Courage, you either have or you don't. You do."
Peiper flushed and sipped his drink, the fiery liquor burning his throat.
Avers gave a wintry smile. "Not my words, Commissar. Brother-sergeant Sedreth said you did well, in the end."
"You've spoken with him?"
A nod. "And with captain Tarken. But I'd like it from you. Off the record, if you like. I already have your official report anyway."
He met the calm gaze, remembered that Avers too had met the xenos in combat. He took another sip.
"We were making our attack run on the xenos mother-ship. I've never felt acceleration like it; you could feel it press you back despite the compensators. Major Harvey and I had got all the men armed and ready, even the commissary staff. Tarken's orders. We were assembled in the drill range near our quarters. Harvey had everyone lie down so as not to be knocked over by manoeuvre at those speeds.
"I'm not sure what exactly happened then. There was a huge flare of light and the ship sort of swung itself sideways, then there was a sudden impact and we were all flung across the room despite the grav compensators. We were picking ourselves up and checking for injuries – a few bruises but nothing serious – when the lights flickered and went out. Then the emergency lighting came up. Major Harvey split the men into four squads, as we'd previously decided."
"You'd lost contact with the rest of the ship?"
"Comms were out for no more than a minute, then captain Tarken came back online and asked for our sitrep."
"What did she tell you?"
"That we'd collided with the xenos mother-ship and to expect boarders. She was going to try and blast us free with the main drives."
"And you?"
"We moved out into the corridors, staying in touch with the bridge. We checked our own deck, then moved to the next one down."
"Why not up?"
"We were just below the control tower. Tarken told us that it wasn't in contact with the xenos ship, so we should move downwards towards more accessible entrances. It made sense."
He took another sip.
"Anyway, we moved down, deck by deck, until we caught movement on deck four, near the stern on the port side. Major Harvey called captain Tarken to inform her, and we set up a cordon. The corridors were pretty much clear, so we were able to organise good fields of fire. Then they spotted us. Not many of them, but enough to be dangerous. Our fire dealt with the first group pretty easily, and then with another. That was when Major Harvey ordered a withdrawal."
"And you disagreed?"
"Yes, sir. I thought we were winning and wanted to advance."
"But Major Harvey overruled you?"
"Yes, as commanding officer on the spot. I considered shooting him – as Commissar it is my right – but I'd known him for two years. I hesitated."
"And you started to pull back."
"Yes, sir. We'd not completed the pull-back when more xenos appeared. They caught us in the flank, but the first withdrawn squad was able to turn theirs. If Major Harvey had not given the order he did, they would have had us from behind. And we would all have died. As it was we lost fourteen men."
"Then what?"
"We started to pull back by squads, covering each other's withdrawal. There was clearly a larger number of xenos than we had first thought. Sergeant Anko got her heavy weapons team set up and she was able to give the retreat decent covering fire. Only four more were lost. But Anko had to abandon the heavy stuff when some of the damned things broke through behind us. We managed to fight our way through them – it was only a small group and we used grenades – but we were down to just thirty-one, so Major Harvey re-organised the troop into three squads, one for each of the main lengthwise corridors. And we pulled back again. But we were losing, and I could see the men started to panic."
"You started with how many?"
"Sixty-six effectives including myself and Major Harvey. We'd killed a lot of the things, but they just kept coming. Anko was on the starboard side with one squad, Harvey with the port squad, and me in the middle with sergeant Tollin. Lieutenant Letfi was dead by then. Then the lights went out altogether and we were firing blind down the corridor. We were still hitting them; we could hardly miss in that narrow a space. You could hear the screeching of the xenos when you injured them, but they were getting closer and closer. Then the lights came back up; someone must have fixed something. And they were just ten metres away. I thought we were dead."
"Obviously not."
Peiper gave a slight shrug. "A woman's voice yelled 'Down' and as we dropped you could feel the heat only decems above us. It was Tarken, in full battle-plate, I don't know where she got it, and she fired a flame-unit right over the squad's heads. She stepped past, barely bothering to glance at us, and sent another burst into the creatures. Then she looked down and said 'Well? What are you lot lying there for? With me, all of you.' And she moved forward again. What else could we, could any warrior of the Emperor, do? A couple of the squad had caught a bit of it, but we were able to put them out, so we followed. We could hear on our left, the starboard corridor, some sort of heavy weapon, like endless thunder echoing along the deck."
"Brother-sergeant Sedreth?"
He nodded. "Yes. We passed a cross-corridor and he was there, with Harvey's squad, like a figure out of legend. He had a huge sword – a power weapon – in one hand, and the biggest gun I've ever seen in the other. I saw a xeno come out of nowhere, I mean literally; I've no idea where it came from. It was just there, right on him, and he didn't miss a beat; he cut it in two without even breaking stride."
"And you advanced?"
"Yes, sir, all of us did. Driving them back until a huge one appeared, much bigger than the others. I've looked it up since, and it was one of the type classified as carnifex. About four metres high; it could barely fit. Sedreth had to reload before it fell, but it killed Major Harvey. Some sort of acid spit, I think. I caught a bit of something similar that took off my forearm, just dissolved it." He grimaced in remembered pain. If not for Tarken pressing the white-hot tip of her flame unit to his stump as battlefield cauterisation, he'd have bled to death, or died of xenos venom. He shook himself and looked back at the other man.
"Go on."
Peiper looked up from the table, suddenly tired. "There's not much more to tell, sir. We held the line for about ten minutes against more and more xenos, then there was a shudder through the whole ship, another huge impact, and the xenos sort of fell over, twitching. We just shot them all as they lay there."
"Do you know what that was?"
"Not really, sir. I haven't had an official report. Just rumours and scuttlebutt."
Avers nodded slowly. "You should know." He touched a control and brought up a schematic holo, expanded it.
"This," he pointed, "was your ship. Whatever the attack she made was – and that's classified above my clearance, so only the admiral knows what weapon she actually used – it disrupted everything in the system. And I really do mean everything. You were at the 'eye' if you like, relatively calm. Every scan, every comm-unit, in the whole system was out for about five minutes. The xenos, as you know, have a hive-mind. We think that was disrupted for more than ten; it's difficult to tell what was orderly intelligent reaction, and what was just instinct. Either way, our ships were able to free themselves with heavy xenos casualties. As Augury of Wrath broke into clear space she could see Eyes of the Phoenix had rammed stern on into xenos mother-ship. And her engines were still working."
Peiper's eyes widened. "That's what she meant. The xenos ships are alive."
"Exactly. Tarken's ship was spewing superheated plasma right into the internal tissues of the hive-mind. That's what broke you free. It ejected the intruder like you would spit out a poisonous thorn. But the damage was already done."
"Sir?"
Avers smiled, looking rather like a satisfied predator. "The collision had ripped a hole two klicks long in the thing's outer tissues, exposing the innards. Tarken's engines had already done severe damage to those internal organs. With Eyes of the Phoenix out of that hole, Admital v'Straaken was able to concentrate all available lances on it. Augury of Wrath alone has lances that can take out half a continent; the thing died. Quickly, but not painlessly; it burned to death from the inside out. Its death agonies disrupted every xeno in the system. A lot of the smaller creatures simply died too, writhing in pain. The rest were easy meat, mostly crippled by the feedback and barely able to understand they were being attacked, let alone defend themselves. The entire invasion was wiped out in less than two hours from the destruction of the hive-ship creature."
"Praise the Emperor," breathed Peiper. He reached for his drink and downed the whole thing.
"Mummy, admiral Gaantt on the comm."
Sara smiled as her channel came live. "Admiral. I trust you are recovered?"
The admiral nodded, hand straying to his new artificial eye for a moment, "Indeed, captain. How are your repairs coming along?"
"Very well. Although I believe tech-adept Gramsci and his companions received a rather forceful dressing down from Phoenix's machine spirit when they tried to fiddle with some of the automation. Luckily Sedreth was able to persuade them to leave it alone; they don't understand the technology anyway. I expect to run a shakedown in-system test in a couple of days."
"That is excellent news. Are you aware that junior Navigator Lyognet has requested a permanent transfer to your vessel?"
She nodded; Lyognet had spoken to her about that very subject three days ago. After discussion with Sedreth and Janey they'd all agreed it would be a good idea. Having a Navigator would be useful.
"And you are willing to take her into your crew?"
"Yes, admiral. She performed very creditably. I presume there will be some sort of payment needed for her House?"
"A minor matter, captain. Under the circumstances I believe I shall be able to put the cost of transferring her contract to my squadron budget. The main issue is that she is technically still an apprentice; Navigator Edsel's last reports stated that he felt she needed another two years or so in post to complete her training. And you do not have a fully qualified Navigator to provide her with that training."
Sara thought for a few moments. "She is sufficiently qualified to back-up Navigation, though?"
"Oh, yes. Quite qualified. You intend to take her as back-up to your test systems?"
"My thoughts precisely, admiral. She will not be guiding the ship through the warp, merely interfacing in case of problems with the automatics."
Gaantt looked thoughtful. "Well, far be it from me to interfere with your ship, captain. And she is surplus to requirements since Navigator Edsel's replacement has his own staff. I shall have the transfer drawn up for your approval. Lyognet can transfer once they're signed off."
"That will be fine, admiral. Would it be possible for the munitioning authorisations to be delivered at the same time?"
"You haven't got them? I thought Denliot had sent them over before we left Schlereth." Denliot had been killed sitting her station when part of the bridge structure, weakened by xeno bio-acids, collapsed. She had not been the only one. "They are probably in her files; I shall have Raglan access them for you, and courier both sets of documents."
"Many thanks, admiral. Emperor's Grace."
"And on you, captain Tarken. Gaantt out."
She looked over at her precious daughter and smiled. "It appears we are about to have a Navigator."
Janey smiled back. "Apprentice Lyognet? That's good. I like her." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Mummy, if we're going to take on a Navigator, won't we need extra bridge crew?"
Interesting thought, Sara conceded, but they'd covered this the other day. "I hadn't thought we would, but I suppose it might be necessary. Why?"
Janey grinned mischievously. "Well, I saw this report on the surface action." She brought it up on Sara's read-display, a written newsdoc, with a section highlighted.
Sara read the section, then read it again. Janey looked innocent. She wasn't fooled. "Janey?"
"Mummy, it can't be coincidence. What are the odds of the same person being here, half a galaxy from where we met her?"
Sedreth nodded slowly from his station, and looked at her. Sara, too, nodded. "I think you're right. There are millions of worlds, and hundreds of millions of possible courses for her to take passage. That she's here, fought in the same battle we did, again. It has to mean something."
"She's scan, correct?"
Janey nodded. "It would be good to have someone else on the bridge. And two new people would make it easier for Navigator Lyognet as well. She wouldn't be the only new one."
Sara looked at the marine in shared understanding. It looked like Janey would be getting her way, as usual.
The other orderly, Geni, was walking her back today. She felt a sense of satisfaction, that she no longer had to use the chair. It hurt still, a little. But her back was getting better every day. Now that the main muscle groups had regenerated, the nerves only gave her the occasional twinge rather than the agonising full-blown spasms of a week before.
The familiar patients' lounge wasn't empty today though. A young woman stood at the windows, her back to the door, gazing out at the battle-damaged city. Dark hair was pulled with a silver clasp into a ponytail that hung just to below her neck, a dark contrast to the richly embroidered formal over-robe that hung to the floor in a luxuriant pattern of gold flames on purple.
As Geni helped her to sit, the woman turned. Not a woman; not yet. Perhaps fourteen or fifteen. Kat blinked in sudden recognition as Janey Tarken gave a brilliant smile.
"Lieutenant Verstark. It is so good to see you again." Janey almost bounced as she walked forward, hand outstretched. She had grown a few inches since they'd last met, and was almost as tall as Kat herself. The roundness of childhood – not that she'd had much baby fat anyway – was almost gone from her face and Kat could see the young woman she would soon be behind the almost childish enthusiasm.
"Sera Tarken. I didn't expect I'd ever meet you again. Was your ship involved in the evacuation?"
Janey's smile flickered. "Yes. In the fighting, really. Some of the people we had on board were killed." Her face brightened again. "So we need more crew, and mummy asked me to give you this."
She reached into her robe, giving a glimpse of a still-coltish but definitely developing form in a tight black jacket and trousers. A scroll case was fished from an inner robe pocket; Kat noticed that Janey Tarken was, as she had always been, armed with both bolt pistol and blade. She noted a throat-mike as well, and suspected there would be more than just the visible weaponry about the young woman's person.
She accepted the case and hesitantly opened it; a hand-written contract offer slid out, inked in black on expensively illuminated formal parchment. It was the sort of document one offered to a high-ranking member of the nobility, not to a jobless junior officer. And it had her name on it.
She heard Geni draw in her breath slightly.
Janey gave a wicked grin. "I looked up the protocols. As a non-astartes holder of an astartes senior decoration, you technically rank with a higher guild member. Since mummy holds a hereditary warrant, the formal contract document gives you authority beyond a normal ship's officer. If you sign it."
She looked over it more carefully. The language was formal, even archaic. Most of it was fairly standard, she recognised. But..
"Sera, Janey, what exactly does 'Imperatoris in nomen, ferire hostem, ubicumque invenitur' mean? It's not Gothic. In fact a lot of this isn't Gothic."
"It's Latin, an ancient Terran language which has been used in law and commerce since the earliest days of civilisation, before even the first millennium. In this case it means 'In the Emperor's name, to smite His enemies, wherever they are found'. The paragraph below confirms that we will supply battle-armour and weapons to do exactly that."
She fished in her inside pocket and handed over a dataslate. "Here's a translator, if you want."
Kat took it, shaking her head, still somewhat disbelieving. "I'm just a scan officer. I have no training in combat."
Janey gave a wicked, genuinely predatory, grin. "A scan officer with the Lupus Imperialis. A scan officer who stayed behind on a dock to ensure refugees were safely boarded and her own ship undocked, then took a shuttle to the surface to defend an unimportant town on a planet she'd never heard of. Who led two hundred volunteers and was wounded defending that town against tyranids. Who, incidentally, is up for another decoration for courage in the face of the Emperor's enemies?"
Kat blushed, embarrassed. She didn't deserve any more recognition than those others who'd dropped with her. "Anyone would have done it," she said defiantly. "Lots of people did. Most of them died."
The girl nodded briefly. "I know. But I've read the action reports. More to the point, so has mummy. So has Sedreth. They want you. I want you." She paused for a moment, suddenly looking solemn and a lot older than her years. "I won't lie to you, Lieutenant. If you take this service, it's pretty much for life, and the chances of you living to see your old age are virtually nil. I doubt we will ever go near your homeworld again, nor have the facilities to contact it beyond sending – not, probably ever, receiving – the very very occasional letter."
"But you still think I should say yes."
The girl laughed. "Yes, of course. We know you."
Which was, Kat reflected, as great a compliment as she'd ever had, in its way. She looked again at the contract; the allowances were huge, far more than she could get on any normal ship. There was even a year-long probation period; they could agree to cut it short if it didn't work out. "Don't we need witnesses?"
Janey looked pleased. "That's a yes?"
Kat nodded. "Yes."
"I have a notary next door. Mummy's witnessed signature is already on this." She murmured into the throat-mike; an expensive one, to allow a subvocalisation like that. The door on the left opened and a man in formal notary's robes walked out.
C-station was still scarred and pitted. A small xenos force had managed to land on it during the fighting, only to be wiped out by vengeful Imperial militia and citizens when the mother-ship had died. The decking and walls nonetheless showed the marks of heavy fighting, acid-formed gouges and stark sooty burn marks remaining as silent indications of tyranid creatures' destruction.
On the docks there was only minimal traffic, mostly a handful of tired-looking militia and arbites on patrol or guarding ships' accesses. She showed her pass to a female sergeant with a recent and unpleasant-looking scar on her neck and was nodded past without more than a glance at her protective bandana.
The gangway was quiet as she walked up it, making soft metallic echoes on the dockside. At the top stood a black-clad figure, armed, but with hands clasped easily behind her back.
"Welcome aboard." Sara Tarken was all uniformed formality, immaculate and smart. Only the twinkle in her brown eyes gave the lie to the pose.
Astrid smiled in response. "Honoured, captain." She accepted the firm handshake from her new employer, and followed her through the entranceway.
It felt good to have a contact on her own merits for the first time. Technically, she wasn't a fully qualified Navigator; her apprenticeship with Edsel had had another two years to run. Yet, Tarken had asked for her, specifically. A small part of her was nervous, worried that she might not be able to live up to the captain's expectations.
"I took the liberty of having your gear moved to quarters close to ours, in the main command tower. Since you don't have any support staff, I thought you might appreciate what small company we can offer. I can have it moved to the Navigator quarters if you'd prefer."
Astrid shook her head. "That won't be necessary, captain. Truth be told, and despite our reputation, Navigators prefer the society of others to solitude."
Tarken smiled briefly. "Good. I have arranged that the list of necessary foodstuffs you gave us be available for you. If you care to show the other crew how to prepare them, I'm sure Janey or Sedreth will be only too happy to. Or I would; I find catering a rather pleasant way to relax."
"You cook for your crew?" It was hard not show disbelief.
An amused, even wicked, grin. "Of course. 'Food foraging and preparation can be a vital skill.' To quote my favourite astartes. Sedreth, naturally, is an excellent cook." A tiny, but fond, frustration in her tone?
A deep voice spoke from the shadows, amused. "Do I hear criticism?" How could she not have noticed the massive space marine?
Captain Tarken chuckled easily. "Not at all, Morgan. Although just occasionally I would like to find something you are not an expert in."
A rumbling laugh. "You are already a better pilot than I, Sara. And honestly, I prefer your cooking to my own. Welcome aboard Eyes of the Phoenix, Navigator. Since we have never been properly introduced, I am brother-sergeant Morgan Sedreth, 79th Century, Legio Astartes Tres." A huge armoured paw gently enveloped her own hand. "Your daily training will be at 1300 mainday."
Astrid looked from one to the other. "Training?"
Tarken smiled. "All the crew are combat-trained. Myself included. But I have asked Morgan to go easy on you and Lieutenant Verstark, since neither of you are used to it."
The big man met her gaze with casual equanimity. "This ship has many enemies, Navigator. While I know that few will dare attack a Navigator, for good though infamous reason, I guarantee that you will be able to defend yourself without recourse to your third eye."
"Oh," she said. "I suppose that would be good."
A deep bass chuckle. "Mens sana in corpore sano, Navigator."
The marine fell into step beside them, moving almost silently despite his armoured bulk. A healthy mind in a healthy body? She looked at the captain, who appeared to consider nothing out of place. Maybe, aboard this ship, it wasn't.
Kat gave a tentative smile to the other woman, the Navigator, also new to the ship. They'd met earlier, at dinner the previous night, and were now waiting to start their first 'training session' with the big space marine Morgan Sedreth. The other woman gave a shy smile in return, looking rather nervous.
The big man strolled in. "Lieutenant, Navigator. I think we should start with a few basics. I shall address you as Kat and Astrid, you may call me Sedreth, or Morgan if you prefer. First allow me to explain why you are going to train with me. The registration number of this ship is epsilon-76, 0001-delta, 29-sigma, gamma-79. Can either of you translate that?"
Kat thought for a moment then said, "Not all of it."
Astrid nodded. "No, not all. I recognise the epsilon as meaning a military class of ship, and the sigma as meaning a space marine vessel."
Kat nodded. "Yes. I know only capital ships had epsilon numbers over 50, and I think the second pair indicates the planet of manufacture."
He nodded. "Correct. Epsilon-76 indicates a raptor-class vessel. A strike destroyer, designed to carry troops while having the fire-power to hold its own with a cruiser-class enemy. You have both seen the ship's specification, so you understand that we are both heavily armed enough to fight anything smaller than a heavy cruiser, and fast enough to out-manoeuvre and outrun anything large enough to take us down easily. 0001-delta indicates, as you said, the planet of manufacture. In this case, the fourth planet of system 0001, better known as Sol."
Astrid's mouth opened then shut again. Kat felt her own jaw drop in similar surprise. "This ship was built at Mars?" asked the Navigator, the first of them to recover.
He nodded. "Indeed. We have a recording of the ship's dedication. You will both see it later. Trust me, you will never forget it. Now, the third pair indicates, as you said, Kat, that this she was commissioned as an astartes vessel. The numeric half of that pair indicates when she was commissioned. In this case the 29th millennium." He gave a wintry little half-smile at their expressions. "The final alphanumeric pair indicates which astartes unit she was commissioned for. The letter is based upon the ancient Greek alphabet, in order by Legion number. Thus alpha indicates Legion I, the Dark Angels, and so on. The last number originally indicated the company, or combat century, of that Legion. That has of course been adapted. Thus the Crimson Fists, for example, being the second chapter founded of the Imperial Fists, have a tripartite registration of the form zeta-secundus-company-number; their successors the Crimson Guard and the Celestial Guard expand that sequence to zeta-secundus-primus-company-number and zeta-secundus-secundus-company-number respectively. You follow?"
They both nodded. Kat asked the obvious. "What Legion is gamma then?"
"The Third Legion. Which was also known as – in fact is still known as – the Emperor's Children. A name you, Kat, will recognise all too well."
She blanched and nodded. Astrid looked at her, confused. Sedreth spoke quickly to explain.
"Astrid, the Children were one of the traitor legions that followed the Warmaster Horus during the Heresy that bears his name. Kat was aboard a INS ship taken by them about four years ago. She was wounded and many thousands of her crewmates died."
The Navigator blushed, and nodded quickly.
"So, to summarise, this ship, Eyes of the Phoenix, is the last and only loyalist vessel of a traitor Legion. In addition, I am the last member of that Legion who is loyal to the Emperor. Not surprisingly, the traitors don't like that at all. Which is why all of us train for combat. There's more to it than that, but it's enough to be going on with."
They exchanged glances, then looked back at the big marine and nodded.
"We understand," said Kat.
"Enough, at least," added Astrid.
"Excellent," he said and smiled. It was a rather wicked smile which put both women in mind of rather large predator.
The man took off at a full sprint, leaving them well behind.
"Throne of Gold. How does he do it?" asked Kat, desperately sucking in air as she staggered along beside her new captain. It was her fourth day of training, and her second run of the ship's 3.9km processional.
Sara smiled, running easily despite bearing a 60 kilo backpack that Kat could barely lift. "He's bred for it. All space marines are genetically enhanced, both for combat and for survival in hostile environments. And, since those enhancements are taken from the genetic material of the Primarchs, that makes them all grand-children of the Emperor. Strangely enough, they're all superhuman."
"You're not, though. Are you?" She and Astrid had both been astounded at the incredible fitness levels of their captain and her daughter.
A chuckle. "No. But Morgan's been training me for years. I am almost decent now, he tells me. I hesitate to think what 'good' will mean."
The deep voice called back to them. "Less talk, more running, ladies. If you have the breath to talk, you're not working hard enough."
Astrid stretched slowly, letting Janey pull her legs into position. Unfamiliar muscles ached as they warmed down.
"You know, Janey, that Navigators don't exercise like this?"
The girl gave a quick grin. "Mr Morgan's answer would be 'mens sana in corpore sano, Navigator'. Which is true."
"A healthy mind in a health body. Yes, he's said it more than once. But by the Throne, I don't need to be this healthy. Ow!"
A merry laugh, which put her in mind to kill, or at least to seriously injure. "Yes, you do."
Astrid groaned.
Jedoan Gaantt watched through the armoured glass viewing portal as the great ship pulled away from station. Fully repaired and munitioned, she was once again a power to be respected.
Not looking round, he felt rather than saw Bramwig move up to join him.
"If it wasn't for them, we'd all be dead," said the flag-captain in a soft murmur.
Gaantt nodded. And if the Inquisition ever found out how they'd done what they did, he had no doubt that Sara Tarken and her crew would be in custody before you could say 'Heresy'. Which was the main reason he had arranged Lyognet's transfer. She had been the only witness – surviving witness anyway – when Edsel had somehow focussed the Emperor's unparalleled psychic wrath through the ship's main lances. That wasn't supposed to be possible, as far as Gaantt knew, and Edsel wasn't around to say how he'd done it; the effort had killed him, reducing his body to a smoking corpse.
But the Gaantt family always paid their debts, and this was a matter of honour. More than five million people were alive because of that ship, and he was damned if he had any intention of explaining why to the Inquisition.
The Emperor had stepped in to save His people. That was enough for him, and for anyone else.
He turned back to his squadron captain. "The Emperor's Grace looks on them, Bramwig. For which I, for one, am thankful. Now, what about those patrol schedules?"
The two men turned back to their duties, leaving Eyes of the Phoenix to go to warp unseen.