Eisenhorn Omnibus

knew it all/

'I thought you both had more sense/ I said as I strode past them and out of the room.

There were several craft cradled in the Essene's hangar. Two ferry pods, a bulk pinnace, three standard shuttles and a number of small fliers.

I was busy directing the deck servitors to make a two man speeder flight ready when Medea came in, red-eyed and dressed for the surface in a fleece jacket.

'I'll fly you down/ she said.

'Don't bother. You've done enough/

'It's my job, Gregor! I'm your pilot!'

'Forget about it/

I clambered into the tight cockpit of the bright red speeder, pulled the canopy shut and fired up the single, in-line thraster.

The launch chute opened and I shot away from the Essene at full throttle.

I tracked his flight path to Catharsis, the capital city of Hubris. Festival flares and fireworks were spitting up above the slanted roofs of the vast

inland metropolis. The jubilee was in full swing. Once I had parked the sprightly little flier at Catharsis downport, I found myself weaving through a dense river of jumping, whooping people that clogged the winding streets. All of them showed the grey pallor of recent cold-sleep. All of them were drunk.

Bottles were pressed into my hands and young women and men alike planted kisses on my face. I was jostled and shoved and scattered with petals and confetti. The smell of the cryogenic chemicals sweating out of them permeated the entire town.

It took all afternoon to find him. He was alone in an upstairs suite in a crumbling but characterful hotel overlooking the Processional Tombs.

'Get out/ he said as I opened the door.

'Godwyn…'

'Get the hell out!' he yelled, smashing a shot glass against the far wall. He'd been drinking hard, which was unlike him, although everyone else on Hubris except me must have been in the same state.

Fireworks coughed and whizzed in the square under his windows.

Fischig glowered at me for a long time, and then disappeared into the suite's bathroom. He emerged with two more shot glasses and a dish of ice.

I stood in the doorway and watched as he slowly and carefully prepared two drinks. Anise, poured over smashed ice..

He placed one in front of himself and slid the other one towards the chair opposite.

To me, that was an act of diplomacy.

I sat down facing him and lifted the glass.

To all we've been together/ I said. We knocked back the shots.

1 slid the glass back across the table top towards him and he made two more.

He passed the second one back to me and caught my eyes for the first time. I stared into his face, saw the eye-fogging scar that had already marked him by the time we met, saw the faint mauve scar tissues where the side of his face had been rebuilt after our clash with the saruthi on the warped world orbiting KCX-1288.

'I never meant to run out on you/ he said.

'I didn't ever suppose so. When did Godwyn Fischig last run out on a fight?'

He laughed bitterly. We sank the second drink and he fixed a third.

'Whatever Medea told you. Whatever Aemos told you… it's true. But it's not what you think.'

'Yeah?'

'I'm no heretic, Godwyn/

'No?'

'I think I might have become what you'd call a radical. But I'm no heretic/

'Isn't that what a heretic would say?'

'Yes. I guess so. If you'd let me into your mind, you'd see../

'No thanks!' he shuddered, shoving his chair back with a squeak.

'Okay/ I sipped my glass. 'It won't be the same without you/

'I know. You and me. Bastards! The Eye of Terror itself was shy of us!'

Yes it was/

'We could do it again/ he said.

'We could?'

'We could work side by side like old times and hunt out the darkness/

Yes, we could. I'd like that/

'That's why I'm sorry I ran out like that. I should have stayed/

I nodded. Yes/

'I owe you that much. I should have tried harder. You're not gone. Not all the way. You're just slipping/

'Slipping?'

'Into the pit. The radical pit. The pit no one comes back from. But I can pull you out/

'Pull me out?'

Yes. It's not too late/

'Too late for what, Godwyn?'

'Salvation/ he said.

The crowds outside were screaming and clapping. Barrages of fireworks were being launched into the early evening air, scattering new stars in their wake like fireflies.

'What does 'salvation' mean?' I asked.

'It's why I'm here, why the Emperor put me at your side. To keep you centred. It's destiny/

'Is it? And what does destiny entail?'

'Renounce it all. All of it. Give over the Malus Codicium to me… the dae-monhost, your runestaff. Let me take you back to the ordos headquarters on Thracian. You can do penance there. I'll plead for you, plead for leniency. They wouldn't be too hard on you. You'd be active again before too long/

You actually believe that you could take me back to the ordos, tell them what I've done, and they'd let me practise again?'

'They'd understand!'

'Fischig, you don't understand!'

He looked at me, disappointed. You won't then?'

'I think this is where I say goodbye. I admire your efforts, but I can't be saved, Godwyn/

You can!'

'No/ I shook my head. You know why? I don't need saving/

Then this is where I say goodbye too/ he said, pouring another drink.

'Remember what we did/ I said.

Yes/

I shut the door behind me and left.