Our sojourn at Footfall was brief — five days, just enough to refit our macro-cannons, spruce up our engines and bully the Navy into sending two cruisers with us. Bully, however, isn't the exact word. I bought their service by showing how a devoted servant of the Emperor I was, how many pirates I had taken out, how serviceable I was to the esteemed local high command… And yes, they were also quite excited to be shown Drukhari to shoot at.

The high point of my visit, however, was Jae's invitation to celebrate her Mercatum Tabula Officiale with her old gang at the Adeptus Amasecus. They still took care of her affairs on the station, and they were an impressive bunch with sinister attitudes and enough weapons about their persons to take down a whole regiment. While sullen at first, they warmed up to me after a while. By the time the first bottle of amasec was empty, we were fast friends and jeered together at one of Jae's commercial rivals who sent out a gift for her. It was a lousy gift, from the man who had stolen her cargo the previous year; since he had been the instrument of our meeting, I should perhaps have been kinder to his emissary.

We drank and we sang and we played a card game at which Jae cheated shamelessly. I remember drunkenly kissing her on the cheek and calling her my sister. Someone (not me) danced on the table. We drank some more, until management firmly showed us the door, and I remember us goofing about Footfall, drinking straight from the bottle, and probably being a caricature of the rich and powerful on a bender. Which, to be honest, we were.

I awoke fully dressed (minus one boot) on my bed, my mouth cardboard-dry, my head threatening to split with pain. I wanted to throw up. I was also hungry. The mix of the two was awful.

Rubbed my face. Decided against getting up, and nearly had a heart attack when someone snored at my side. Turning around took me the better part of five minutes, and I almost decided curiosity wasn't worth the effort.

It was Jae. Her hair was a mess. She was drooling on the covers and held my missing boot like a teddy bear in her sleep.

'Hey,' I said.

She didn't move. I prodded her with my finger.

'Hey,' I repeated.

She snored louder. I grabbed her shoulder and shook it.

'Fuck, Jae, wake up!'

That made it. Her eyes were glassy.

'Where are we,' she asked, and by the Emperor did she need to brush her teeth.

'My room.'

Jae dragged herself upright with more energy than I and looked around.

'I remember now,' she said. 'You were bloody wasted and I wanted to put you to bed before Abelard got my head because you were a walking embarrassment. I must have passed out right after taking off your boot.'

'What sort of embarrassment,' I asked with a sinking feeling.

'Not sure. I wasn't in a much better state.'

We stayed silent for a while, me wondering when the ceiling would stop moving and Jae falling back on my pillow. I had been sleeping on Heinrix's. Having someone on the wrong side of me felt weird.

'We should get up,' I said without much conviction, and promptly fell asleep again.

Second time around was a bit better. I was cognisant enough to think of using my vox-box to call for tea and whatever counter-hungover meds the medicae could have. Before she slinked out of my quarters, Jae had once again put on her princess of Effreet persona, all shereen and ludicrous accent and over-the-top manners. I had been quite sure for a while now that she wasn't who she pretended to be. She obviously had a Militarum background, that much I could tell, and as for the rest… She'd tell me in her own time, or perhaps not at all. A secret was something I could respect. She was Jae. She was my friend, and that was all that mattered.

Cleaning up made me feel better, and at last I felt perky enough to go to the bridge, where I should have been hours ago. Had I been any other officer, I would have had to send myself to the brig in order to reflect on the virtues of timeliness and not partying in the middle of the week.

Since the brig would have been quiet and silent, I nearly walked there instead.

The few dozen steps to the hololith display were… strange. Everyone was looking at me. No, staring at me. I heard a whisper or two in my wake. I joined Abelard, poured myself some recaf, and asked for a status report.

'Lord-captain,' he graciously clamoured in a booming voice that echoed disagreeably in my head. 'There truly isn't much to report, except… perhaps you shall find it satisfying to know that your return to the ship in the small hours of morning will leave no lasting damage.'

'Oh,' I said. 'I wasn't aware there had been… issues?'

Abelard stared at me with a mix of disbelief and disappointment that I didn't even know a human face could produce. It was, however, Yrliet's everyday expression.

'Allow me, lord-captain.' He took a pile of reports from the display and, adjusting his ocular implant, began a summary. 'At 04:34, your personal pilot reports you boarded your shuttle at Void dock Alpha-Rho. She began the preflight checklist and reports that you and mistress Heydari bodily removed her from her seat, laughing, saying, and I quote, I'm betting you another lacerax that I can fly this shit right into my fucking ship, it can't be that hard and I'm the fucking Rogue Trader anyway, I'm telling you the ship loves me and does things for me. To which your pilot tried to oppose your lack of flight training, only to be told, and I quote, to stop being such a wet blanket. Mistress Heydari seemingly threatened her with a laspistol devoid of a power-cell, and your pilot recommended her soul to the God-Emperor before you somehow managed to take off.'

Abelard cleared his throat and turned the page. The bridge was so silent you could have heard a fly fart. I finished my recaf and automatically fell into a parade rest. My schola-addled brain wondered if I'd be granted the mercy of a shot in the head or if it were to be a penal battalion instead. More than twenty years have passed and I still can't get over the schola.

'Flight control reports that you made the flight in a record thirteen minutes. Damage to the landing bay notably includes the floor, burnt by the rear-thrusters, a container of tools, hit by the wing, three servitors, and the shuttle itself that ultimately came to a stop by railing along the bulkhead for fifty meters. No casualties are to deplore. The bulkhead will need some work, but the structure wasn't damaged, although the shuttle is scraps.'

I straightened my posture and tried to look at a point ten centimetres over Abelard's left shoulder. It would be the penal battalion. Probably against Orks.

'A squad of enforcers ran to meet you, working under the assumption that you must have been under assault to make such a landing. They report you and Mistress Heydari disembarked the wreck laughing. Oh, your personal pilot has requested a leave of absence to go on a pilgrimage to saint Drusius in thanks for still being alive.'

'Granted,' I croaked.

'Once the enforcers had made sure no miscreant had boarded the shuttle with you, lord-captain, they report they voxed the Master-at-Arms for instructions as to your somewhat merry state. Mistress Sauerback proposed, time logged 04:57, that they escort you and Mistress Heydari to your respective rooms. They report the suggestion was met with clear hostility on your part, saying, and I quote, nah, the party's not over, I won't fucking go to bed I'm not even tired. To which the sergeant suggested you move the party someplace else, a proposal you immediately took to heart because, and I quote, that deck is so fucking draughty. Escorted by the enforcers, you and Mistress Heydari proceeded to roam the upper decks, presumably aiming for the mess hall. We do have an excellent vid-cast of you and Mistress Heydari bellowing out a song she, it appears, had tried to teach you at some point during the evening. Vox-Master, if you please?'

Since the floor couldn't open and swallow me, I had to suffer with crimson cheeks as a screen was rolled by the hololith and a black and white recording, probably made by a servo-skull, played. Everyone on the deck had probably seen it twice already, but a few still left their post to get another peek. After seven and a half minutes of black is the colour of my true love's hair, his lips are red like some roses fair, etc, sung in a duet with a very loose conception of both tune and rhythm, the screen thankfully went blank.

Abelard turned another page. 'High Factotum Danrok, roused by the sound of your revels outside his rooms, reports that at 05:33 he opened his door, gun in hand, ready to take on the heretics he was sure had invaded the upper decks. He reports that Mistress Heydari hugged him and said she was sorry, but Sister Argenta was prettier. His quick thinking is to be credited for your return to your quarters at 05:47, where he, for lack of a better word, baited Your Ladyship with the promise of some rare and strong alcohol. He reports that, when this turned out to be merely tonic water and light soup, you sullenly said, and I quote, fuck this, I'm going to bed.'

Was it over? Abelard handed the reports to an underling and turned to me again, waiting. It was over. Someone probably ought to say something, and that someone was probably me.

'Please convey my sincerest apologies to the squad of enforcers,' I said. 'And to Janris.'

'It will be done, lord-captain. Anything else?'

I thought about it. A penal regiment. Against Orks. Barefoot and in my pyjamas? No, too lenient.

'Which landing bay has been damaged, Abelard?'

'Bay four, lord-captain.' He glanced at his chrono. 'Repairs should still be ongoing.'

I can take a hint, so I left the bridge and braced myself to go give a heart attack to some grunts by helping them clean whatever bulkhead I had wrecked. Being in close proximity to drills and other loud machinery while severely hungover would be worse than Orks. Way, way worse.

When we left Footfall, we didn't go straight to the Cinerus Maleficum. I wanted to stop at Dargonus along the way, despite the three-weeks delay it would cause, and make sure the local high command knew the fleet should be ready to face a Drukhari attack. Just in case we were flattened by Marazhai and he decided to march on.

We had heard through the grapevine that at least another raid had been aborted — on Foulstone, this time. Scalander's message to us must have lost itself through the Aether, but the Navy had caught it in time and acted.

And so, when we touched ground on Dargonus, I had a very busy three days before me. The one good thing left by Theodora's rule was that her planets were quite used to fend for themselves, by necessity, and so getting everything ready to withstand a siege was only a matter of setting people and plans in motion.

On our last evening on Dargonus, I got to enjoy some rest. No ship to run, a break from the affairs of the protectorate… Just a quiet late afternoon and evening in the cosy secret room that opened behind my bed. I had opened the window, so the soft and quiet spring air could get in. If I closed my eyes, I could believe myself on Parinus, my childhood home — the hive, counter-lit by the sun, as the mountains, and the birds in the hanging gardens just the same. Living on a voidship makes such moments all the more precious. Standing and leaning against the window-sill, I breathed in deep. The wooden floor — such luxury on a hive world — felt warm under my naked feet.

The vox-box at my hip buzzed to life. It was my secretary (the Emperor's Mercy orderlies had once again been politely, but firmly, asked by the palace to stay in orbit — office politics).

'Your Ladyship, my apologies, I know you said no one was to disturb you, but Interrogator van Calox is here on inquisitorial business. He says it cannot be delayed.'

There it was, the strangled tone permeating the voice of people fallen prey to Heinrix's insistence. Peri and the others had grown somewhat used to it, but the palace personnel? Not yet.

'Buzz him in,' I said.

I heard the antechamber door open and close, and then familiar footsteps. He knocked on the open secret door. He looked very official in his grand uniform. For once, it made me smile.

'You're just on time. Can you please close the door behind you?'

As Heinrix crossed the room to me — Jae had removed the last of the xeno-artefacts and had replaced them by bookshelves, sofas, a giant green plant and a well-stocked bar — he deftly removed pauldrons and cape and, after folding them, hung them on the mezzanine banister. His hands were then on my waist and his lips along my neck. His cheek — I felt him smile when I kissed it, before I moved on to his lips. His hair fell on my face.

Black is the colour of my true love's hair

His lips are red like some roses fair

He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands

And I love the ground whereon he stands

'I wouldn't have missed such an appointment for all the galaxy and the treasures in it,' he whispered in my ear. We remained in each other's arms for a little longer, until I brought him closer to the window to admire the view. Whatever of my ancestors had built this room had chosen it well.

A golden light, barely scattered by remnants of the day's mist, bathed every tower, every roof, every gable and pinion, catching reflexions here and there on slate and polished stone. Colours went from a deep blue grey for those buildings near us, until they faded in the pale, clear sky.

Heinrix stood behind me, his arms around me, his chin resting on my shoulder.

'Achilleas swears he doesn't know what that Marazhai is up to,' he said. 'Although he too believes a rift may exist within the kabal. Maybe besting you in more or less single combat would advance Marazhai's cause, by showing how individually powerful he is even without his archon's help.'

We had speculated about the reasons behind Marazhai's challenge for hours on end, but without more data no conclusion could be made. I covered Heinrix's hands with mine and leaned against his torso.

'Guess we'll know more once his ship is blasted to bits. Achilleas's source has to be somewhere within the kabal, but why would they give us their raid plans yet remain tight-lipped about their internal strife?'

'Because it's none of our mon-keigh business. Maybe we won't ever know more, Katov. Xenos, and Drukhari in particular, do not think like we do.' His hands grew caressing, so gently, and he nuzzled against my neck. 'Throne, how I miss you here. On the Emperor's Mercy, we at least pass each other by every day.'

I turned around and palmed his cheek. Oh, the way he looked at me! I could only kiss him, or I would have drowned in these grey eyes.

'I know,' I whispered. 'Your duty is pesky.' And one day it would get between us; one day, Heinrix would be called somewhere away from me, and I wouldn't be able to follow.

'Which reminds me that I have something for you, Rogue Trader.' Pulling away, he fished for something in the internal breast pocket of his tunic: a book. 'I got it today, from a seller in the middle hive. You said that you needed to know your people better.'

The volume was rather thick, but that was because the print was rather large. On the glossy cover, a man bravely raised an imperial standard against a monstrous enemy I didn't recognise while, in the distance, a heavenly light indicated a miracle was in progress.

'Folk tales from Dargonus and beyond,' I read. 'That's a children's book.'

'It says ages seven and up on the inside. Surely you are old enough?' The light teasing made me chuckle.

We sat on a sofa. I curled up against Heinrix, rested my head against his shoulder and opened the book at random.

'Once upon a time, in the days of Rogue Trader Theophanus,' I read aloud, 'there lived a widow who had three sons. Oh, I love stories about three sons, the third one is always too sassy for his own good.'

The tale was well written; the third son was indeed a little shit who saved the day by being a clever little shit and somehow married Theophanus's daughter. I was fairly sure no one of that name had reigned over the protectorate, though. Heinrix then read us another story — this time featuring an evil stepmother and a magical mirror. Sunlight slowly moved across the room. When Heinrix put down the book, I searched for his lips in the reddening gloom.

Now I straddled him, pulling on his hair to tilt his face, and his tongue was in my mouth. His hands pushed my hips against his — hard. I could feel his straining cock and shamelessly ground over it. Without breaking our kiss, I removed my blouse; I wore nothing underneath, and he already knew that. His hands left my hips long enough to undo the button of my slacks, begin sliding my panties away, and I had to stand up to shed everything off. An interruption Heinrix used to remove his own pants — and he surprised me by bending me over the window sill. This high, no one could see us or, if they did, recognise us, but it felt taboo. His lips ran up my spine. His arm brought me against him. His finger went straight to my slit, playing in my folds, teasing, exploring, until at last it caressed my clit and I moaned, arching against the cloth of his tunic. He made me come in his arms and then held me tight, whispering my name, his breath hot in my hair, as my knees were weak.

Wordlessly, I took his hand and, leaving the cosy little room, we went to my bed. We cuddled; I traced the reliefs of his face, undid the buttons of his tunic — lazily ran my hand against his chest and let it rest against his heart. It beat quietly.

'You are pensive.' His voice, this close, sent shivers to my core.

'I don't really know you. We… I've told you everything about me. You know all about who I was and who I am and what I fear. You're the person I want to trust the most — and I do trust you. If you wanted to hurt me, really hurt me, it'd be easy. But there's so much you never say. Sometimes, I feel so… startled by something you do, it's as if you got a whole new face.'

Great timing, Katov, bravo. Sometimes, I could punch myself in the mouth. Perhaps I should ask Pasqal to fit me with a mechadendrite that could smack me the instant my brain starts thinking hey, this situation here is too nice, time to mess things up, the monthly angst objectives won't fulfil themselves you know. Thankfully, Heinrix wasn't vexed — I think. It was a good thing I had stopped before completing my thought: that, if I wanted to hurt him, I wouldn't even know where to begin.

He had told me about his sisters, a bit. A few anecdotes about Guisorn III's feudal society. A few less about his, admittedly short, time as a sanctioned psyker of the Astra Militarum. And next to nothing about the rest. Oh, regicide, yes, and his unofficial book club with Cassia. But his life, outside the bubble of my ship, was shrouded in mystery. He only ever allowed me glimpses — superficial ones, that kept the conversation going, but that shed no further understanding on his character.

Smiling, Heinrix took my hand and brought it to his lips, so warm against my fingers. 'There is much that I cannot tell you. For that, I apologise.'

Was it rude of me to want more — more than his kisses, more than his caresses? Because what he could give, he gave in plenty. When we could manage to get some uninterrupted hours together. In secret. So it wasn't much. And yes, I felt arguing about it would be rude, so I swallowed my unhappiness and sealed it away.

Heinrix must have sensed, from my lack of answer, that the matter was closed and inched nearer to me. He was an intoxicating wine, or a drug; I breathed in against his skin and felt like a fool to ask for more. The muscles of his back were supple and strong under my palms. Swinging a leg over his hip, I pushed him on his back, relishing the admiration in his gaze when I sat across his lower belly. He pushed a strand of hair away from my face and traced my lips with a tentative thumb. What a sight he was, tunic undone, hair mussed up, and this damn soft smile of his like sunlight after a storm.

'Katov, perhaps… if it would soothe your disquiet, let me make you a promise'

That, too, was unexpected. 'I'm listening,' I said, running my hands on his belly, curious.

'I cannot, by oaths sworn…' He stopped, and started again. 'You cannot know as much as you would like. And yet, you already know more about me than anyone outside the Ordos ever did. I understand how this situation can be aggravating.'

What a conversation to have in the position we were, really — and on this we agreed, because Heinrix rolled his eyes and groaned. 'Throne, I cannot string a coherent sentence with you sitting on top of me like that.'

'The things I do for you,' I said, getting back down by his side. 'I enjoyed the view.'

He shut me up with a kiss — long, heavy, his tongue against mine, his grip on my waist tightening. When he drew back, he said: 'What I can promise you, is to never betray the trust you have in me. By necessity, I know more about you than you about me. Katov, I will never use that knowledge against you or your interests.' He paused. 'Except if you were to turn to the Ruinous Powers, quite obviously.'

Coming from him, that was something indeed, and good as a declaration of love.

'Thank you,' I said. 'Thank you.'

His neck, under my lips. His chest, his nipples, that I licked. His hands were on me, and his head lolled back in pleasure when I ran my fingers along his cock. I knew its shape, the small groove than ran under its length and every inch of the soft skin; I knew how it tasted and how it felt in me. I knew how to get it ready for me — by focusing on the whole man, once again sprawled under me, my wetness staining his hips. I kissed and licked my way down his torso. When I lowered myself on him, it was with the ease of habit, and when he thrust just a little, to settle better within me, he did it with the certainty that I would cry out in ecstasy.

Through half-closed eyes, Heinrix watched me. He ran his hand down my belly, a few times, so softly that it was a dream of a caress, until he touched my clit. Again. I rolled my hips so he got better access, and that double feeling of him filling me and of him touching me made me moan.

'Grab your ankles,' he asked.

It allowed me to take him deeper yet. He coaxed a rising pleasure from my clit, his touch now strong, now maddeningly light. Panting, I arched my back. The pressure on my clit, the rhythm he gave to it… I came, and I came hard over his cock, and he hadn't even begun to move. We had found out some time we both liked this. I recognised the wild desire on his face, as he bit his lips and breathed out in self control; he loved this. My own breath hadn't steadied yet but, leaning forward, I kissed him. His hands went to my ass. I rocked my hips back and forth, still overly sensitive. Little by little, he picked up the speed. I knew how we would then come undone together, lost in unbearable pleasure, joined in our hunger for each other. I knew how we would cuddle afterwards, kiss again and joke, before hitting the bathroom and getting presentable again so that no one would suspect. And how I would remember every moment later, before I went to sleep alone in my rooms, touching myself and loathing myself for being happy with this temporary half-happiness, because I certainly wasn't worth leaving the Inquisition for. He hadn't promised not to hurt me — people, after all, hurt each other all the time, and him going back, one day, to his true calling would certainly do that.