Title: Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem

Author: Spike

Chapter: Eight

Hours later, the six of us continued on our journey across the planet (not that we had anywhere to go).

We had packed up the camp and carried on across the mountain we had settled upon – It seems that this mountain was part of a rather large range so Bishop decided to mount an exploration across it, in the hope (however misguided) of finding something.

So far, the journey had been a very tense affair: Bishop led the way, his senses alert to any sign of danger. Naturally, these senses would be looking for Orks but, at the same time, they seemed unaware of what was really happening behind his back.

Laertes followed our esteemed leader. He has since come around since being knocked out and he seemed to have regained his senses.

For now.

Funny thing is, he can't seem to recall that earlier this morning he was battling monster Orks, and suspecting the trace of heresy within the companions he is currently travelling with. Instead he seems quite intent to journey with us, not being bothered at all by the concept of 'his allies' doing anything he deems 'unfit' in his eyes.

Perhaps we should consider ourselves fortunate……

Jessie followed the priest whilst myself and Xerxes came after. I couldn't see Jessie's face but it didn't seem too hard to determine just what she was thinking.

The outcome of the dispute from this morning, had not really given her the result she desired. As she had lost out in the democratically-determined decision, she had returned to her sullen mood. Of course, her vote didn't really amount to anything and the only other supporter of her cause was unconscious at the time but it was obvious that she was still unhappy with the result.

Although describing her as 'unhappy' was only putting it lightly.

Who the hell still uses such a thing as democracy within the Imperium anyway?! Anyway, being on the losing side, it was obvious that Jessie holds both myself and Xerxes responsible (of course, Bishop also supported leaving but who the hell was the guts, or more accurately the stupidity, to take Bishop on?). This, in turn, brought a dramatic increase onto the chances of Jessie attacking both myself and Xerxes.

Earlier this morning I was concerned with the thought of Deacon reaping such a sadistic pleasure from combat that he may find bloodshed within the rest of us (myself in particular). However the same thing could be easily applied to Jessie – how long will it take before the thrill she finds in combat compels her to attack her allies?

Not a lot it would seem.

It's kind of strange seeing Jessie like this: considering she was the closest I'll ever get to finding a reliable ally on this miserable rock. But what happens when your best ally suddenly gets sick of you?

But should she lash out, I just hope she goes for Xerxes first.

Of course, Jessie kept her back to us both and her gaze hidden. But such a move only betrayed her outrage and the seemingly inevitable consequences.

But it wasn't just Jessie I was concerned about – the greater concern was directly behind me.

Deacon brought up the rear of the party. His hands clutched his heavy stubber with absolute affection, his ruthless gaze escaped nothing and he certainly looked well-prepared for any assaults the Orks may attempt.

But he also looked ready to slug a heavy stubber shell into the back of my forehead.

This in turn, brought my mind into state of absolute paranoia. This certainly wasn't the best place to be and any normal person would've got out of there quick smart.

However, these allies I travel with are human and without them I would already be dead on this miserable rock. Besides, the tensions mean that I am more prepared to deal with any ambushes along this route – hey, can't afford to be relaxed when you're fighting for your life on a daily basis.

But that wasn't what bothered me from a more probable reason to the presence of the gunner standing behind me. The problem there was that he was in the perfect position to get back at me. He had the greatest opportunity to get rid of me simply by shooting me in the back.

(Personally I would rather have Jessie kill me than Deacon. Sure, being torn apart limb for limb sounds hardly appealing but it sounds more clean and swift than compared to being repeatedly blasted with a heavy stubber. Besides, as a killer, at least Jessie would provide a more pleasing sight than Deacon's sheer ugliness)

Of course, knowing Deacon, he could kill me and find an excuse to justify his actions – any excuse would for one is as good as any other. The problem there with that plan was that it would be an absurd idea to kill me right now – when everyone else is present. Therefore, if he wants to try something he would have to do it when no one's looking and make sure he covers his tracks very carefully. Yet, at the same time, there were various elements that currently worked in Deacon's favour: Should he kill me, Jessie wouldn't care, Laertes, in true fanatical fashion, wouldn't be deterred by any casualties falling beside him in his mission to burn every heretic he could find, and Bishop could be easily convinced when given the right circumstances.

The problem that stood in Deacon's way was Xerxes.

The former Rogue Trader walked alongside me – thus making himself into a position of being an unwitting liability. If Deacon has to get rid of me, he would also have to get rid of Xerxes - and then questions will be asked which would not place Deacon in a favourable position.

I would laugh at this notion – the opportunity for Deacon is right in front of him for the taking but his unable to do anything about it!

I would – but I don't want to provoke the lunatic…..

But even for all the danger he posed, Deacon wasn't the greatest of my concerns.

No, my mind was currently on Xerxes.

Ever since we started this journey, he hasn't really been his usual self: He hasn't said anything since this trip began, his facial expression has been continually pensive and his brow has been furrowed. This certainly was unusual for the Rogue Trader - usually he would normally keep up with his constant flow of witty remarks. Needless to say, hearing him be quiet certainly was a cause of concern.

"Xerxes?" I asked.

"Yes?" he replied.

I was surprised. After so long in silence reply was certainly unexpected - but it was enough to build upon.

"You all right there?"

It wasn't the best choice of words for maintaining a conversation but it was better than nothing.

But it was enough to get a reply:

"Yes"

"You sure?"

"Absolutely" he said.

Xerxes' words may have been the type that disdains the need for concern but the voice was certainly growing in discomfort.

His mouth once again fell silent and his pace quickened. He went several steps ahead of me, taking his willingness to communicate with him.

I blinked – I was never used to seeing the Rogue Trader like this. Only once before did he show any type of emotion that was one par with this current mood. Usually, he was his cheerful, optimistic self – so seeing him now like this was indeed unusual enough to be disarming.

I had never really bothered to question what was on his mind previously but now was a time worthy of making an exception.

Suddenly, I felt the unwelcome sense of a heavy stubber barrel poking me in the back.

"Get moving small fry" uttered a voice I was not particularly keen on hearing.

A small grin made its way across my face (thankfully unnoticed by Deacon) and I continued moving.

I had only taken a few strides before something extraordinary happened

My gaze was stretching lazily down the gravel slope and towards the jungle that lay below.

When suddenly, it happened:

I picked up some sign of movement,

There, in amongst, the trees, I could see the trees move.

It wasn;t just a rustling

No, no way. That's impossible!

Suddenly, I felt the familiar sensation of a Heavy Stubber barrel in the back.

"What is it this time?" Deacon rumbled.

"I just saw something…" I managed to mumble.

"What?" the gunner demanded "More Orks? More of those monsters you're so worried about?"

"No, I'm not so sure…"