VII

Rufys gave silent thanks when the Rex Experiores Spatiorium shunted back into realspace, as always grateful that they were not lost forever in the warp. And the view ahead told him that they had not arrived at some different place or time. The Bloody Eye was unmistakable in its disturbing beauty, and the small dot approaching it must be Kenek's ship.

Whit came through the door, hurrying to stand beside him and see the curiosity himself.

"Guess it was more than just a catchy name for his sect," Garamonde quipped.

"Five minutes it took me to get to the bridge, and that's the best you can come up with?" Whit teased.

Garamonde huffed. "I see you're living up to your name today."

"Indeed, Captain Droll," Whit lobbed back.

Sorwensen gave a small cough and moved to a nearby display panel.

Garamonde straightened his jacket and also moved to a display panel. "What am I going to do with you?" he muttered. He glanced back, but Whit answered with only a slight shake of the head and an innocent look.

Rufys pressed down on a comm button. "Sergeant Murcheson."

Murcheson replied with a brief "aye."

"We have arrived," Rufys said into the open comm channel. "Please prepare your men for the mission.

"I'll do so at once," the grizzled older man replied, and cut off his connection.

Rufys gave one last meaningful look at Whit, daring him to say something, but Whit was too entranced by the view on the main screen.

"Sorwensen," Rufys commanded, "tell me when we are in shooting range."

"Yes, sir."


Garamonde played it carefully, but there was no difficulty taking out the Ira Populi's weapons systems. The pursued ship didn't even fire back once. Is anyone even still alive on there? he wondered.

Things going this easily made him nervous. He found himself almost wishing that Murcheson's team had a difficult time of it.


Murcheson's squad was having a difficult time of it. At first it had been eerily silent, after they'd gotten the vox announcement from the captain that their small transport pod could launch for the Ira Populi. They were used to making arrests with weapons fire and barrages going on all around. Granted, they rarely were called upon to perform arrests in this ship-to-ship manner, but they had helped out docking authorities before, so it wasn't completely unusual. But even then, the maneuver was typically surrounded by loud noises, not just this … silence. And waiting.

Then, when they had neared the Ira Populi, the ghosts had shown up.

Currently they were all staring at the third reenactment of a moment from DeClerq's past. Most of them just looked on in silent fascination as they watched the muzzy, gold-flecked version of his younger self raise the rock again, bringing it down on the back of the mewling prostitute's head, silencing her forever and causing mush to spill from the sides of her skull.

"You sonofabitch," LeVeigh muttered, a scowl on her face. "You sonofabitch."

"It didn't happen that way," DeClerq angrily protested. "It didn't happen that way!"

Murcheson shook his head and looked up from the younger DeClerq unbuttoning his pants, panting.

"All right," Murcheson growled, "enough with the pretty show. I want everyone ready here. We have no idea what to expect. The goal is to take Kenek alive, but the rest of the crew is expendable. We have more than enough crew members back on the Rex to get the ship back home."

"You sonofabitch," LeVeigh muttered. Behind her, a teenaged, long-haired version of herself held onto a pole and cried while a man with a whip behind her murmured what sounded like apologies after every crack against her bare back. "You told me she-"

"I said it didn't happen that way!"

The two began moving towards each other.

"That's enough!" Murcheson yelled, moving between them, arms out. "I said enough! We are professionals! Act that way!"

"Tell that to this piece of filth," LeVeigh said in a deep voice.

"I said-"

"I heard you! You had me help you, and the whole time-"

"Shut up!" DeClerq raised his power maul threateningly.

Officers Tersus, Dorlan, and Nagay stayed back, weapons held noncommittally at their sides. Murcheson pumped his combat shotgun and held it pointed in the air. "I said, enough! I will go commissar on your ass if I have to!"

At that moment they all felt the ship clunk into place, docking with the Ira Populi. In the silence, all they could hear was the rhythmic grunting from the floor, and the sobs and switching from behind LeVeigh.

DeClerq's eyes narrowed and his thin, florid face managed to appear to come closer to LeVeigh without actually moving. His thin nose narrowed as he whispered, "That the problem, LeVeigh? You wish you had a little taste? You not getting-"

The ship settled, and LeVeigh's hand cannon went off, catching DeClerq in the upper shoulder. DeClerq screamed and looked at his shoulder in disbelief.

"Sorry," LeVeigh said woodenly. "I slipped."

"Don't-" Murcheson started, but DeClerq gave a primitive scream, raising his good arm, the one with the power maul, and threw himself at LeVeigh.

Desperately trying to regain control of the situation, Murcheson used his shotgun as a bat and aimed toward LeVeigh's hand cannon, trying to disarm her. The hand cannon flew to the floor, but not before discharging another round. It hit DeClerq's raised foot, and his scream climbed another octave as he brought the maul down on LeVeigh's shoulder, also knocking Murcheson aside.

Murcheson fell to the ground on his ass, grunting. "Restrain them!" he yelled, and the others jumped in, quickly using handcuffs on the two combatants.

Murcheson growled as he rose to his feet. "Ain't got time for this shit." He directed the two combatants to be cuffed to seats far apart from each other. "Guess you'll be sitting this one out." He rolled his shoulders and shook the tension out. "Everyone else, scramblers in your left ears. Keep the chatter to a minimum." He checked his pistol, and headed to the airlock.

Everyone did as instructed and checked their own weapons. They slowly entered the Ira Populi.