I must confess that, despite all of my confidence in Her Ladyship's decisions as a whole, I have a few doubts about including the xenos Yrliet Lanaevyss in her retinue. If only the eldar was respectful — but it feels she can't formulate a sentence without one slight or other to us mon-keigh. It can only be good, then, that she seldom speaks. Only the lord-captain appears to find a modicum of grace in her eyes, being called elantach instead. On the third night we spent in the jungle, I was half-seriously considering orchestrating a friendly fire accident, but a small conversation with Master van Calox, of all people, dissuaded me of it.

'Let the lord-captain do as she wills,' he said. We were building a fire pit for our evening dinner (we had shot some kind of small deer along the way) while the others were diversely occupied, allowing for some privacy. 'She uses people like regicide pawns, be it for noble or private purposes. Getting a taste of her own medicine this once, I am sure, must have done her some good.'

I waved some dead wood at him. 'Young man! I cannot allow this slander.'

'Please, seneschal. Have you had a single interaction with her where she considered you, yourself, instead of the means to an end?'

Well no, of course she hasn't, I protested: I am her first officer. I am here to serve, as us all, but the reminder earned me nothing more than a shrug. He served the Golden Throne, he said, and Katov von Valancius, in comparison, was only human. 'It doesn't mean we cannot like her — admire her, even, and be glad of her attentions,' he pursued. 'But to expect anything like thoughtfulness from her is certainly beyond reasonable.'

I blinked and asked what this had to do with the xenos. He appeared to think about it, as if he had revealed something he didn't know that he wished to keep private (which would be a first for an Interrogator of the Inquisition). Turning his attention back to the work at hand, he eluded my question and said: 'She knows my opinion on the matter of the eldar. I now wash my hands off it. Certainly, there are enough people of valour around that we can take down that Yrliet should the need arise. In the meantime, we are the lord-captain's advisors — not wet nurses ready to coddle her.'

And that was that. In a way, he is right: the Rogue Trader deals in the exalted matters of the protectorate — and strategic alliances certainly fall under that prerogative — and we deal with the rest. I have therefore resolved to tolerate the eldar's presence, as it is neither my place nor my wish to impinge on Her Ladyship's politics.

Oh, by the Throne, am I glad to be back to civilisation! The shuttle only hopped to the Emperor's Mercy, so that Sister Argenta could be delivered to the chirurgeons' care — and those definitely pulled a face, from what I heard, when they saw her state. Nothing they cannot fix, of course, but I was told they chided her properly for not taking it easier after she was wounded. But now, after a day made longer by those pesky time zones, we are back to the gubernatorial palace and able to convene with Lady Cassia and Mistress Heydari over a platter of cold meats.

They have, indeed, uncovered evidence of Chaos worship — tenuous as these things tend to be — that is, if not coming from the highest spheres, at least tolerated by them. It makes my blood boil! That Lady Theodora's trust was so abused, that the very people who should be exemplary have devolved to such low extremes! The people of Janus were in their Emperor-given right to rebel against such a corrupted rule! It is only a shame that xenos seized it as a occasion to deceitfully grab power over those faithful servants of the Imperium.

Anyway, I was of the opinion to send in execution squads right there and then, and shared it with the lord-captain. She did entertain the idea, but more careful consideration showed it would be difficult to move in without tipping our hand and that, therefore, some heretics were at risk of getting away. Instead, we decided we would act tomorrow. Air space will be closed at Lauds (palace time); by then, our forces will have taken control of the PDF grid, ready to shoot down any and every craft defying the order. This will leave the Emperor's Mercy a bit under-defended but, as Her Ladyship remarked, a frigate so loaded with archeotech punches above her weight at all times. Every other ship in orbit (and they are all unarmed transport barges of sorts) will be directed to stand in geosynchronous orbit right in our line of fire, and the first to move out of it will be taken down. The palace grounds will be put in lockdown and then, with every precaution taken to avoid heretics bolting, we will decapitate the cult — starting by Vistenza Vyatt. This plan being agreed upon, we were able to rejoin our rooms, and I will now grab a few hours rest before restoring Janus to its former glory, Emperor willing.

There are precious few things as mentally taxing than taking down a cell of cultists. We — Her Ladyship, Magos Pasqal, Master van Calox, Mistress Heydari, Yrliet Lanaevyss and me — barged into Vistenza Vyatt's office a little before daybreak. The pungent stink of human waste assaulted my nostrils as soon as the door opened, the buckets obviously in need of changing. The former governor and her aide slept, huddled, on makeshift bedding piled in an alcove emptied of its artful ornaments; I thought to recognise curtains and the poorly filled cushions that used to grace visitors' chairs. The two women themselves were dirty, and smelly, and scrambled befuddled to an upright position when I roused them with Her Ladyship's credentials.

'Tell me, Vistenza,' said the lord-captain, 'what have you done with the people you have taken from settlements here and there?'

Vistenza Vyatt blinked. 'Experiments, Your Ladyship, to enhance the attributes of our workers. A difficult endeavour, true, but previous attempts in merely controlling their diet and habitus were not enough. More direct intervention was required.'

'This was unsanctioned,' droned Magos Pasqal, his tone severe even through his vox-box. 'The magos biologis supervising Janus operations was not consulted at any point, thus making the probability of your experiments being heretical innovation eighty-five point six percent, rounded to the lowest digit.'

A wild fear washed over the former governor's face. She looked to her aide for support, found none, and protested: 'No! My experiments were grounded in centuries-old, proven, solid, research by my dynasty. The Gravaz family's, too! All of it had been previously blessed by the Adeptus Mechanicus, so I thought there was no need to bother the Magos with such trifling matters.'

It was Mistress Heydari who replied to this. 'Oh, we know,' she purred, 'I spoke with the Gravaz.' And three generations of Gravaz, at that moment, were being smoked out of their beds to be put in shackles. The lord-captain asked Vistenza Vyatt what those who survived the experiments became.

'They were often unable to return to their settlements,' stuttered Vyatt. 'It only seemed humane to keep them here, either as guards or, or, gardeners. Surely, Your Ladyship, you wouldn't have had them dispatched while they could still serve, be useful?'

Her Ladyship didn't reply. Her closed expression was the one of a woman about to scrub something disgusting from her sole. The surviving palace guards had all been arrested during the night. Some had resisted but, like I said, the surviving guards were now kept under the watch of a complement of our best and brightest. To my surprise, our xenos ally didn't move; it was as if she had removed herself completely from the situation and, now that we knew all about the corruption of the former governor's heart, was just waiting for the shooting to begin.

'I have found the rebels' nest, Vistenza,' said the lord-captain.

'Oh, have you, have you really? And what have you learned?'

'Everything, Vistenza. I know everything. And now you have one chance to beg for mercy, if you confess and repent.'

This one had caused to some discussion between Her Ladyship and our Interrogator. Her Ladyship wanted to offer the former governor the chance of a clean, swift death if she confessed. Master van Calox, well, disagreed until it was pointed to him there was no Ordo Hereticus presence in the Expanse (to the best of our knowledge, of course) and that it was in everyone's best interest to wrap things up as fast as possible.

Vistenza Vyatt stood up very straight, teeth clenched. Her hair needed washing beneath the pearls that held together its elaborate tresses. Her silken dress — crumpled and soiled — was a shadow of what it once was, but her golden implants shone still despite her sorry state.

'I, daughter of House Vyatt, Governor of Janus and citizen of the Imperium, serve no one other than the Emperor and the von Valancius dynasty! And these insinuations… what… what you are accusing me of… is merely a tool at my disposal! A tool that only I had the power and courage to use! Do you think ordinary methods would have been enough to tame this demented planet? No! My family struggled for decades to subdue Janus once and for all, until loyal servants of ancient families helped us unlock a new source of power. Ancient knowledge. Two days spent among the initiated was enough for me to start hearing the voices of angels in my ears — angels who gifted me the keys to conquering this world!' With a shudder, Vistenza Vyatt added: 'I was always faithful! It was to me your predecessor entrusted one of her most valuable worlds, without fear of treachery or conspiracy!'

If it could be believed, I would have pegged Her Ladyship as being sad when she said: 'I've heard enough. You are neither saving Janus nor improving it by those experiments on its population, Vistenza. I will not allow a miscreant like you to continue wreaking evil. But if you are truly as faithful as you say, tell me who else conspired with you, and I will make sure you don't suffer more than necessary.'

Thus threatened, the former governor hesitated. Her lips parted, she looked around; her eyes rolled in their sockets and she crumbled with barely a gasp, skin gone white as ash, blood staining her side. We had time to glimpse, behind her, the aide, a bloody dagger in her hand, before the assassin took a step back and, manipulating something in the alcove, disappeared through a hidden door that closed shut after her. It had all gone so fast, none of us had the opportunity to react.

'How do the mighty fall when they lose sight of the Exalted One,' cheerfully commented Mistress Heydari, fishing a pistol from the frills of her dress as she stepped over the former governor's body. 'Shall we go after the ashmag?'

After the ashmag we went.

The hidden door did not resist much before Magos Pasqal's ministrations. It opened in a narrow corridor, carpeted in rich colours, lit by frilled lamps set at intervals, and a cloying perfume hung in the air — rose and musk, and decay. I was reminded of a few bordellos I had the displeasure to visit in order to extract young officers who had lost track on time while on shore leave.

'Careful,' said Master van Calox and, as he raised his hands, a chill went over my skin. The heavy perfume appeared to lift, if only a little, and I was able to tear my eyes from Mistress Heydari's bosom. Strengthened in our resolve, we walked down the corridor, the absence of opposition making my skin crawl at least as much as the despicable art that decorated the walls. A turn later, the oppressive silence was broken by a murmur — a chanting melody of sighs, of moans, of atonal cries that grew by the instant.

We found them in a lupanar of sorts and barged in, weapons at the ready. Her Ladyship, Mistress Heydari and Yrliet Lanaevyss provided cover fire as we three rushed to engage the heretics in hand to hand combat; my place is at the fore, always! Some devilry was at work at the centre of that hall decorated in rich marble and luxurious furnishing: the aide lead a ritual of sorts that suffused the place with the oily feel of the warp, and I am sure that, without van Calox's powers keeping whatever it was at bay, I would have found it hard to breathe. Sanctioned psykers are, despite their inherent uncanniness, one of the great tools of the Emperor against Chaos: His name is a weapon when uttered by their lips — they strengthen the faithful and wound the infidel. And he had work to do! When we engaged the first cultists — madmen and madwomen, half naked, who waved daggers like dessert spoons — a thickness in the air coalesced in several shapes born of the Immaterium. Human-like they first appeared to be, but no human, not even a mutant, ever had such bodies as theirs. They were naked; they were both male and female, moving with what could have been a sensuous, erotic grace, if not for the feeling that something was terribly amiss, that another dimension hid something of their too-swift moves. And their feet were talons, and their hands were claws, like insects, and the mouths they opened to scream expanded too wide over too many tongues. The promise of death and murder trailed in their wake like stench does a corpse. I blocked a swiping claw with my power hammer, disruption field humming in resonance with Magos Pasqal's prayers to the Omnissiah — Magos Pascal who stood strong against a blow that would have felled many a man.

Our shooters helped us slay the last of the barmy human cultists so we could concentrate on that new threat. I saw van Calox, in a great arcing blow, get two of the things and send ichor flowing from purple wounds — but a third one, who had been so far wondering how to get past my guard, seized the opportunity to dive under his sword, and a scythe-like arm plunged in his side. Van Calox cried out in surprise and his countering blow cleaved the offending member at the elbow, but the damage was done. He fell gasping to one knee, eyes wide with shock.

A hail of lasbolts on full auto shredded his aggressor (two shots clipping me on the shoulder, and a third ricocheting over Magos Pascal's power pack); no Warp-cursed healing could fix the kind of damage the lord-captain wrecked over the creature's torso and neck. She herself was suddenly at my side, ejecting her empty power cell. Before she replaced it, she clocked another of the things with the butt of her lasgun — it had begun lowering itself over van Calox's prone body, a hungry look in its gaze, and fell back with a shriek. My attention was then diverted by my own opportunity to strike; feeling a creature's skull crack under my blow was most satisfying. But still, I heard van Calox's breathless voice; 'I won't go down easy,' he spat, and the static hum of his power sword whirred to a whine when the blade hit a bird-like foot.

While we struggled, Magos Pascal's axe, that he swung with clockwork precision, had opened him a way to the chanting aid. The woman pranced around the contorted mass of a few of her fellow cultists — those were still alive, lost in unholy ecstasy, but their bodies were locked and fused in an embrace stronger than copulation, and from them issued those damning waves of Warp energy that tore through the room. The demonic creatures didn't mind the Magos's progression; perhaps he didn't have enough flesh left to attract their attention, unless the priesthood of Mars protected him. Mistress Heydari followed him closely. Meanwhile, Yrliet Lanaevyss's equivalent of a hellgun snapped loudly in the indoor setting, and she kept our foes from closing on our backs.

My enemy fallen at the cost of a bruise or two, I turned back to the lord-captain. She still stood at van Calox's side as he struggled against loss of consciousness (and the effect the creatures had upon us grew stronger as he got weaker). While I watched, I saw her wrestle against one of the creatures's grasp, until she could jam her lasgun below its head and pull the trigger — and she threw herself in the path of another who wanted to end our psyker's life and protection. The creature landed a blow that cut the lord-captain's neck open — superficially. Still, I wasn't about to let the lord-captain suffer at the hands — claws — of a warp-born demon-like thing, so I charged forward and, with a great shout, hit it with my hammer like a child playing whack-a-heretic. I took great relish in the sickening snap of bone that ensued. It was the last of those creatures, and Her Ladyship and I ganged up to tear it to shreds. Once we were done, the purple fires of the Empyrean soon swallowed back its body. Not to toot my own horn (although I could probably be forgiven for doing it in the privacy of my own diary), but I was quite happy with myself and made for the Magos and Mistress Heydari who were suffering, in turn, at the hands of the aide; the woman had a sorcerous way to herself and she needed to be overrun in order to be subdued.

To my great surprise, however, Her Ladyship did not follow. She had knelt by van Calox's side and was now applying pressure on his wound, with what must have been all of her upper body weight pushing over her closed fist. Surely, he would have survived the next five to ten minutes without her help: biomancers are notoriously tough and, if I was to judge by the slight frost forming on the floor around them, he was himself taking care of his wound despite his half-closed eyes, which were lost in a daze. Sergeant Traigg's words, uttered in the Amasecus on Footfall several weeks ago came back to me — that he had never seen an officer take that much care of dirty grunts or something to that effect — but Her Ladyship had shown no such care to Sister Argenta, and it is with something akin to horror that I must avow I at first reached the conclusion that, maybe, the lord-captain had taken an idea to try and curry favour with the Inquisition in order to be forgiven for bringing a xenos to her retinue.

I was nearly thankful to the aide for providing a distraction from this line of thought, as getting close enough to hurt her was a challenge. But really, in the end, we prevailed, as was only good and proper, and I was at leisure to get a medi-kit to van Calox. When Her Ladyship removed her bloody fist from the wound so that I could administer first aid, his eyelids fluttered and she grabbed his hand, gripping it so hard her knuckles went white — although her face betrayed no emotion. No, that was no cold calculation on her part, and I am not ashamed to say the implications worry me to no end.