‘A great deal, but we’ve held it together through spit, grit and prayer. The only damage you will consider vital was taken on the Legion’s sanctum deck. Several breaches, but all hull wounds are isolated and secured.’
Argel Tal swallowed. ‘The Blessed Lady?’
‘Secure and well. A Euchar force investigated not thirty minutes ago. The enemy fleet is dust and wreckage in orbit. How fares the surface battle?’
Argel Tal scanned the devastation for several moments before answering. ‘We won, Baloc. That’s enough for now.’
Aquillon walked from the eagle-winged shuttle and onto the empty hangar deck. He’d never seen it so quiet: a hollow space of silent, waiting cranes and idle servitors standing by their wall-stations. The Legion was deployed, and everything the Word Bearers commanded had been committed to the world below.
At the base of the ramp, several figures were waiting for him. Sythran inclined his head in silence. Kalhin and Nirallus likewise didn’t salute – it wasn’t their custom to show obeisance to anyone but the Emperor, beloved by all. The three warriors held their guardian spears in loose grips, but their body language and postures suggested restraint, rather than simply remaining casual. He could read the telltale tension in their muscles, even beneath their golden armour.
The other two figures drew Aquillon’s attention. The first was Cartik, who offered a deep bow. The old man was sweating in the cold hangar, and his ageing heart beat in an accelerated, irregular rhythm. The second was unknown to him. Dusky-skinned and keen of eye, daunted by nothing he bore witness to. A brave soul, this one. Or reckless.
‘A curious welcome,’ the Occuli Imperator said softly. He was not angry – not yet, at least – but his patience had bled dry many hours before. The loss of contact with the Word Bearers fleet left him rattled, and this was indeed an unusual welcome. He knew something was wrong the moment he saw his brothers waiting for him below.
‘Your ships were “delayed” as well,’ Aquillon surmised. ‘You were prevented from reaching the battle at all.’ All three warriors nodded.
‘I was first to arrive,’ Nirallus said. ‘Less than ten minutes ago. The approach to the fleet was a nightmare, and the auspex chimed out with hundreds of dead ships in the upper atmosphere. It will rain steel on Isstvan V for decades to come.’
‘I saw the same,’ admitted Aquillon. ‘No sign of any vessels bearing the traitors’ colours, but the loyal Legions have suffered horrendous losses themselves. And the wreckage patterns did not suggest accurate numbers. It seems two Legions have been annihilated. Others who were supposed to be present were simply never here.’
‘I have not been able to reach Argel Tal,’ said Kalhin. ‘Or anyone else on the surface.’
Aquillon looked down at the two humans. ‘Explain their presence.’
Sythran stepped forward, and offered Aquillon a bulky plastek picter rod. The imagifier was of expensive make, that much was clear. Aquillon took it, but didn’t look at the viewscreen.
‘You are an imagist?’ he asked the human.
‘Ishaq Kadeen,’ the man replied. ‘Yes, I’m an imagist. You activate the–’
‘I know how it works, Ishaq Kadeen.’ Aquillon thumbed the activation setting along the haft, and the small screen blinked into life.
Aquillon processed what he was seeing. His education and training at the Emperor’s side allowed him a broad view of human capability, and the possibilities of technology in union with living beings. He had never seen anything quite like this before, but he knew immediately what it had to be.
The Occuli Imperator handed the picter to Ishaq, who took with a mutter of gratitude. ‘You found this on the sanctum deck, I assume?’ Aquillon enquired.
‘The monastic deck? Yes.’
‘Of course.’ And then, with infinite dignity, Aquillon reached to unsheathe his blade. ‘My brothers,’ he said. ‘We are betrayed.’
‘I do not much like our chances against an entire vessel’s crew, even with the Legion off-ship. What do you suggest?’ asked Kalhin.
‘First, we find the depths of this betrayal. I must see this madness for myself, and tear the truth from the lips of those that keep it. Before we can even consider cutting out the cancer at this rebellion’s heart, we must secure passage to Terra and relay every detail to the Emperor.’
‘Beloved by all,’ said Kalhin and Nirallus at once. Sythran tapped his knuckles to his chestplate, over his heart. Ishaq’s own ‘beloved by all’ came a couple of awkward seconds later, though none of the others were paying him any attention anymore.
‘This will be a great deal of work,’ Kalhin grunted.
‘Who do we interrogate?’ asked Nirallus. There was no doubt in his voice – he didn’t ask because he had no idea of an answer, he asked because there were too many possible names and the decision ultimately rested with Aquillon. ‘The fleetmaster? The general?’
‘There’s one soul on this ship that has listened to the Word Bearers whisper their secrets for half a century. We will find this precious soul not far from where you found the evidence of their treachery. Come with me.’
‘H-how will you get onto the monastic deck?’ Cartik was already falling behind, practically ignored by the Custodes.
‘We will kill everyone that stands in our way,’ Nirallus replied as if the answer were obvious. ‘Return to your room, old one. It will not be safe at our side.’
The Custodes moved forward, blades drawn. Aquillon let emotion curl his lip into an ugly snarl. ‘Cyrene,’ he hissed. ‘Their
