The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第18部分

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The　three　interrogators　fell　silent　for　a　moment。
'We　are　wasting　time　here；'　I　said。　'I　am　not　the　man　you　want。'
BUT　THE　TIME…WASTING　continued。　A　week；　passed；　then　a　second。　Every　day；　I　was　taken　to　the　great　hall　and　subjected　to　anything
from　two　to　six　hours　of　First　Action　interview。　The　questions　were　repeated　so　many　times；　I　became　sick　of　hearing　them。　None　of
the　interrogators　seemed　to　listen　to　my　statements。　As　far　as　I　knew；　no　part　of　my　story　was　being　checked　out。
They　were　clearly　wary　of　escalating　to　physical　or　psychic　means　of　extraction。　Because　I　was　a　psyker；　I　could　at　least　make　things
difficult　enough　so　that　they'd　never　know　how　much　of　what　they　were　getting　out　of　me　was　true。　Osma　had　evidently　decided　to
wear　me　down　with　endless　cycles　of　verbal　cross…examination。
For　fifteen　minutes　each　evening；　with　the　ocean　light　fading；　I　was　allowed　to　speak　with　Fischig。　These　conversations　were
pointless。　The　cell　areas　were　undoubtedly　laced　with　vox…thieves　and　listening　devices；　and　as　far　as　we　knew；　Glossia　was
compromised。
Fischig　could　tell　me　little；　although　I　was　able　to　learn　that　Medea；　Aemos　and　the　gun…cutter　were　not　in　Osma's　hands；　and　neither
was　the　Essene。
There　had　been　no　further　sighting　of　Prophaniti…Husmaan；　and　Fischig　was　certain　that　the　mystery　starship　that　had　delivered
Prophaniti　to　Cadia　had　not　been　intercepted　that　fateful　night。
Through　Fischig's　agency；　I　sent　petitions　to　Osma；　to　Rorken　and　to　Neve；　protesting　my　arrest　and　urging　them　to　take　further　action
regarding　Quixos。　No　word　came　back。
Candlemas　was　long　past。　Three　more　weeks　went　by。　I　realised　that　the　year　had　turned。　Outside　the　thick；　bleak　walls　of　the
Carnificina；　it　was　340。M41。
AT　THE　END　of　my　third　month　of　detention　and　interrogation；　I　was　led　into　the　great　hall　for　my　daily　interview　and　found　Osma
waiting　for　me　instead　of　the　usual　interrogators。
'Sit；'　he　said；　gesturing　to　the　chair　in　the　centre　of　the　stark　room。
It　was　dark　and　cold。　Bitter；　late　winter　storms　were　pushing　in　from　the　east；　and　though　it　was　day；　no　light　came　from　the　high
windows。　They　were　muffled　with　snow。　My　breath　steamed　in　the　air；　and　I　shivered。　Osma　had　arranged　six　lamps　around　the　edges
of　the　room。
I　sat　down；　pushing　my　hands　into　the　pockets　of　my　coat　against　the　chill。　I　didn't　want　Osma　to　see　my　distress。　He　stood；　warm　and
insulated　in　his　burnished　power　armour；　reviewing　a　data…slate。
I　could　see　myself；　reflected　in　the　polished　panels　of　his　backplate。　My　clothes　were　ragged　and　filthy。　My　skin　pale。　I　had　dropped　a
good　seven　kilos；　and　now　sported　a　thick　beard　as　unruly　as　my　hair。　The　only　item　in　my　possession　was　the　inquisitorial　rosette　in
my　coat　pocket。　It　comforted　me。
Osma　turned　to　face　me。　'In　three　months；　your　story　has　not　changed。'
'That　should　tell　you　something。'
'It　tells　me　you　have　great　reserves　of　strength　and　a　careful　mind。'
'Or　that　I'm　not　lying。'
He　put　the　slate　down　on　one　of　the　lamp　tables。
'Let　me　explain　to　you　what　is　going　to　happen。　Lord　Rorken　has　persuaded　Grandmaster　Orsini　to　have　you　extradited　to　Thracian
Primaris。　There　you　will　stand　trial　for　the　charges　in　the　carta　extremis　before　a　Magistery　Tribunal　of　the　Ordo　Malleus　and　the
Officio　of　Internal　Prosecution。　Rorken　isn't　happy；　but　it　is　all　Orsini　would　allow。　Rorken；　I　have　heard；　feels　that　your　innocence　…
or　guilt　…　can　be　ascertained　once　and　for　all　in　a　formal　trial。'
'The　result　of　that　trial　may　embarrass　you　and　your　master；　Lord　Bezier。'
He　laughed。　'In　truth；　I　would　welcome　such　embarrassment　if　it　meant　the　exoneration　of　a　valuable　inquisitor　like　you；　Eisenhorn。
But　I　don't　think　it　will。　You　will　burn　on　Thracian　for　this；　Eisenhorn；　as　surely　as　you　would　have　done　here。'
'I'll　take　my　chances；　Osma。'
He　nodded。　'So　will　I。　The　Black　Ships　will　arrive　in　three　days　time　to　conduct　you　to　Thracian　Primaris。　That　gives　me　three　days　to
break　you　before　the　matter　is　taken　out　of　my　hands。'
'Be　careful；　Osma。'
'I'm　always　careful。　Tomorrow；　my　staff　will　begin　Ninth　Action　examination　of　you。　There　will　be　no　respite　until　the　Black　Ships
arrive　or　you　tell　me　what　I　want　to　hear。'
'Two　days　of　Ninth　Action　methods　will　probably　guarantee　I　won't　be　alive　when　the　Black　Ships　come。'
'Probably　A　shame；　and　questions　will　be　asked。　But　this　is　a　lonely　prison　and　I　am　in　charge。　That　is　why；　today；　I'm　just　talking　to
you。　Just　you　and　me。　A　last　chance。　Tell　me　the　whole　truth　now；　Eisenhorn；　man　to　man。　Make　this　easy　on　us　both。　Confess　your
crimes　before　the　pain　begins　tomorrow；　spare　us　the　trial　on　Thracian；　and　I'll　do　everything　in　my　power　to　ensure　your　execution　is
quick　and　painless。'

'I'll　gladly　tell　you　the　truth。'　His　eyes　brightened。
'It's　all　there；　on　that　slate　you　were　reading。　Exactly　as　I　have　been　saying　these　last　three　months。'
WHEN　THE　GUARDS　took　me　back　to　my　frigid　cell；　down　stone　hallways　where　the　ocean　gales　moaned；　Fischig　was　waiting　for　me。
Our　daily　fifteen　minutes。
He　had　brought　a　lamp；　and　a　tray　with　my　night　meal：　thin；　tepid　fish…broth　and　stale　hunks　of　rusk　bread　with　a　glass　of　watered　rum。
I　sat　down　on　the　crude　bunk。
'I'm　to　be　extradited　for　trial；'　I　told　him。
He　nodded。　'But　I　understand　tomorrow　the　painwork　begins。　I've　filed　a　protest；　but　I'm　sure　it'll　be　accidentally　lost　in　the　trash。'
'I'm　sure　it　will。'
'You　should　eat；'　he　said。
'I'm　not　hungry。'
'Just　eat。　You'll　need　your　strength　and　from　the　look　of　you；　you've　precious　little　of　that。'
I　shook　my　head。
'Gregor；'　he　said；　dropping　his　voice。　'I　have　a　question　to　ask　you。　You　won't　like　it　much；　but　it's　important。'
'Important？'
'To　me。　And　to　your　friends。'
'Ask　it。'
'Do　you　remember　…　God…Emperor；　but　it　seems　so　long　ago！　…　last　year；　when　we　met　up　again；　at　that　grave　field　outside　Kasr
Tyrok？'
'Of　course。'
'In　the　shrine　tower；　you　said　to　me　that　you　couldn't　conceive　of　doing　anything　that　would　please　or　benefit　a　daemon。　You　said；　〃I
can't　ever　imagine　myself　that　insane。〃'
'I　remember　it　clearly。　You　said　that　if　you　ever　thought　I　was；　you'd　shoot　me　yourself。'
He　nodded；　with　a　sour　chuckle。　There　was　a　moment　of　silence；　broken　only　by　the　crackling　of　the　lamp　and　the　boom　of　the　sea
outside　the　prison　ramparts。
'You　want　to　be　sure；　don't　you；　Godwyn？'　I　asked。
He　looked　at　me；　reproachfully。
'I　can　understand　that。　I　expect　total　loyalty　from　you　and　all　my　staff。　You　have　the　right　to　be　assured　of　the　same　from　me。'
'Then　you　know　my　question。'
I　fixed　him　with　my　eyes。　'You　want　to　ask　if　I'm　lying。　If　there's　any　truth　to　the　charges。　If　you　have　been　working　for　a　man　who
consorts　with　daemons。'
'It's　a　stupid　question；　I　know。　If　you　are　those　things；　you　won't　hesitate　to　lie　again　now。'
'I'm　too　tired　for　anything　but　the　truth；　Godwyn。　I　swear；　by　the　Golden　Throne；　I　am　not　what　Osma　says　I　am。　I　am　a　true　servant　of
the　Emperor　and　the　Inquisition。　Find　me　an　eagle　and　I'll　swear　on　that　too。　I　don't　know　what　else　I　can　do　to　convince　you。'
He　got　to　his　feet。　'That's　enough　for　me。　I　just　wanted　to　be　sure。　Your　word　has　always　been　enough；　and　after　all　the　years　we've
been　together；　I　was　sure　that　you'd　tell　me　if…　even　if　it　was…'
'Know　this；　old　friend。　I　would。　Even　if　I　was　the　scum　Osma　believes　me　to　be；　and　even　if　I　could　hide　it　from　him…　I　couldn't　lie　to
a　direct　question　from　you。　Not　you；　Chastener　Fischig。'
The　guard　rapped　on　the　cell　door。
'One　minute　more！'　Fischig　shouted。　'Eat　your　supper；'　he　said　to　me。
'Did　Osma　put　you　up　to　this？'　I　asked。
'Hell；　no！'　he　snarled；　offended。
'It's　all　right。　I　didn't　think　so。'
The　guard　hammered　again。
'All　right；　damn　your　eyes！'　Fischig　growled。
'I'll　see　you　tomorrow；'　I　said。
'Yeah；'　he　replied。　'Do　one　thing　for　me。'
'Name　it。'
'Eat　your　supper。'
THE　CRAMPS　BEGAN　just　after　what　I　guessed　was　midnight。　They　woke　me　from　a　bad　sleep。　Pain　surged　through　my　body　and　my
mind　was　numb。　I　hadn't　felt　this　bad　since　Pye's　handiwork　on　Lethe　Eleven；　during　the　Darknight　almost　two　whole　years　before。
I　tried　to　rise；　and　fell　off　the　bunk。　Spasms　wracked　me；　and　I　cried　out。　I　vomited　up　the　dregs　of　the　dire　supper。　Bouts　of　fever…heat
and　death…chill　twitched　through　me。
I　don't　know　how　long　it　took　for　me　to　crawl　to　the　cell　door；　or　how　long　I　lay　there　beating　my　fists　against　it　until　it　opened。　Hours；
possibly。
Consciousness　ebbed　and　flowed　with　the　cramping　and　the　rising　agony。

'Holy　Emperor！'　the　guard　exclaimed　as　he　opened　the　door　and　saw　me　by　the　light　of　his　rush…lamp。
He　called　out　and　feet　came　beating　down　the　cell　way。
'He's　sick；'　I　heard　the　guard　say。
'Leave　him　till　morning；'　said　another。
'He'll　be　dead；'　the　first　guard　answered　nervously。
'Please…'　I　stammered；　reaching　out　my　hand。　It　was　frozen　in　a　claw…shape；　paralysed　and　ugly。
Others　were　arriving。　I　heard　Fischig's　voice。
'He　needs　a　doctor。　Trained　medicae　help；'　Fischig　said。
'It's　not　allowed；'　complained　a　guard。
'Look　at　him；　man！　He's　dying！　An　attack　of　some　sort。'
'Let　me　through；'　said　another　voice。
It　was　the　prison　medic；　accompanied　by　Interrogator　Riggre；　who　looked　as　if　he　had　been　roused　from　his　bed。
'He's　faking　it；　leave　him！'　Riggre　said　contemptuously。
'Shut　up！'　Fischig　snarled。　'Look　at　him！　That's　no　act！'
'He's　a　master　of　deception；'　Riggre　returned。　'Maybe　he's　been　licking　the　lead…paint　off　the　door　to　aid　his　act；　more　fool　him。　This　is
a　sham。　Leave　him。'
'He's　dying；'　said　Fischig。
'He　looks　bloody　sick；'　said　a　guard　uncomfortably。
More　cramping　spasms　twisted　me　involuntarily。
The　doctor　was　hunched　over　me。　I　could　hear　the　beeping　of　the　medicae　auspex　he'd　taken　from　his　pharmacopoeia。
'This　is　no　act；'　he　muttered。　'His　body's　in　seizure。　You　can't　fake　muscle　binding　like　that。　Blood…oxygen　is　down　to　thirty　per　cent
and　his　heart　is　defibrillating。　He'll　be　dead　in　less　than　an　hour。'
'Give　him　a　shot。　Fix　him！'　Riggre　yelled。
'I　can't；　sir。　Not　here。　We　haven't　got　the　facilities。　Ahh！　Emperor；　look！　He's　bleeding　out　now；　from　the　eyes　and　nose。'
'Do　something！'　Riggre　screamed。
'We　have　to　get　him　to　an　infirmary。　Kasr　Derth　is　the　nearest。　We　have　to　get　him　there　quickly　or　he's　dead！'
'That's　ridiculous；　doctor！'　said　Riggre。　'You　must　be　able　to　do　something…'
'Not　here。'
'Call　up　a　flight；　Riggre；'　Fischig　said。
'He's　a　primary　level　prisoner　of　the　Inquisition！　We　can't　just　take　him　out　of　here！'
'Then　get　Osma—'
'He's　gone　back　to　the　mainland　for　the　night。'
Fischig's　voice　was　low。　'Are　you　going　to　be　the　one　to　tell　Osma　you　let　his　prize　captive　die　on　the　floor　of　his　cell？'
'N…no…'
'I'll　tell　him；　then。　I'll　tell　Osma　that　his　man　Riggre　cheated　him　of　the　greatest　prosecution　of　his　career　because　he　couldn't　be
bothered　to　authorise　transport　and　thus　let　Eisenhorn　die　of　toxic　shock　in　this　prison　stack！'
'Call　up　transport！'　Riggre　shouted　at　the　guards。　'Now！'
THEY　CARRIED　ME　up　to　the　stone…cut　landing　pad　on　a　stretcher。　Voices　yelled　and　argued　in　the　biting　wind　and　blizzard…filled
darkness。　The　medic　had　fixed　up　an　intravenous　drip　and　was　trying　to　slow　my　symptoms　with　a　few　drugs　from　his　kit。
The　pad　lights　flickered　on；　cold　and　white；　and　backlit　the　swirling　snow　into　black　dots。
A　Cadian　shuttle　came　in　low；　its　attitude　thrusters　shaking　the　pad　and　swirling　the　snowfall　in　random　directions。
They　carried　me　into　the　green…lit　interior；　and　the　worst　of　the　cold　and　weather　was　stolen　away　as　the　hatch　shut。　I　felt　the　sudden
yaw　of　the　ship　as　we　lifted　up　and　turned　away　towards　the　mainland。　Fischig　loomed　over　me；　adjusting　the　restraining　straps　that
held　me　into　the　shuttle's　cot。　Over　the　roar　of　the　engines；　I　could　hear　Riggre　shouting　at　the　pilot。
Covertly；　Fischig　slid　an　injector　vial　from　his　coat　and　fixed　it　into　the　intravenous　rig　in　place　of　the　prison　doctor's　injector。
I　began　to　feel　better　almost　at　once。
'Stay　still；　and　breathe　slowly；'　Fischig　whispered。　'And　hold　on　tight。　Things　are　about　to　get…　bumpy。'
'Contact！　Three　kilometres　and　coming　in　hard！'　I　heard　the　co…pilot　blurt。
'What　the　hell　is　that？'　Riggre　demanded。
There　was　a　pinging　sound　from　the　shuttle's　transponder。
'Throne　of　Earth！　They've　got　a　target…lock　on　us！'　exclaimed　the　pilot。
'Attention；　shuttle；'　a　voice　crackled　over　the　open　vox。　'Set　down　on　the　islet　west　five…two　by　three…six。　Now；　or　I　will　shoot　you　out
of　the　air！'
My　vision　was　settling　now。　I　looked　across　the　green…lit　cabin　and　saw　Riggre　pull　a　laspistol。
'What　treachery　is　this？'　he　asked；　looking　at　Fischig。
'I　think　you　should　do　as　you　were　asked　and　set　down　right　now；'　said　Fischig　calmly。
Riggre　made　to　fire　the　pistol；　but　there　was　a　searing　flash　of　light。　Fischig　burned　Riggre　with　a　blast　from　the　digi…weapon　built　into
the　jokaero…made　ring　on　his　right　index　finger。　An　item　of　Maxilla's　jewellery；　I　realised。
Fischig　fired　another　shot　that　vaporised　the　vox…system。

'Down！'　he　ordered　the　pilot；　pointing　the　ring　at　him。
THE　SHUTTLE　MADE　emergency　groundfall　in　a　snowstorm　on　the　rocky　beach　of　the　uninhabited　islet。
'Hands　on　your　heads！'　Fischig　ordered　the　crewmen　as　he　bundled　me　out　of　the　hatch　and　into　the　blizzard。
I　could　barely　walk　and　he　had　to　support　me。
'You　poisoned　me；'　I　gasped。
'I　had　to　make　it　convincing。　Aemos　prepared　a　dose　that　would　reactivate　the　binary　poison　in　your　body。　Pye's　poison。'
'You　bastards！'
'Hah！　A　man　who　can　curse　is　far　from　dead。　Come　on！'
He　half…carried　me　across　the　shingle　into　the　oceanic　gale；　snowflakes　stinging　our　faces。　Lights　swooped　down　ahead　of　us　as　the
gun…cutter　came　in；　executing　a　perfect；　Betancore…style　landing　on　the　icy　shingle。
Fischig　bundled　me　up　the　landing　ramp　into　the　arms　of　Bequin　and　Inshabel。
'Dear　lord；　have　you　thought　this　through？'　I　wheezed。
'Of　course　we　have！'　Bequin　snapped。　'Nathun！　Get　a　booster　shot　of　antivenin！'
FOR　THE　SECOND　time　in　under　two　years；　I　was　dead。　From　binary　poison　at　the　hands　of　Beldame　Sadia's　henchmen　on　Lethe；　and
now；　dead　in　a　shuttle…crash；　brought　down　in　a　winter…storm　over　the　Caducades　on　Cadia。
The　gun…cutter　lofted　from　the　beach；　ran　the　length　of　it；　and　then　came　back　towards　the　downed　shuttle。
May　the　Emperor　forgive　me　and　my　staff　for　the　deaths　of　Riggre　and　the　two　flight　crew。　Their　deaths　were　the　only　way　I　could
maintain　my　security。
'Fire；'　I　heard　Nayl　tell　Medea。
The　gun…cutter's　ordnance　strafed　the　Cadian　shuttle　and　blew　it　apart。　By　dawn；　the　jetsam　along　the　remote　islet's　shore　would
suggest　nothing　but　a　tragic　crash　caused　by　the　hellish　storms。
WE　BANKED　UP　through　the　cover　of　the　storms　towards　orbital　space。　Though　no　one　told　me；　I　knew　our　flight　plan　was　covered　by
someone　else's　authority　code。
Neve's　was　my　guess。　Probably　with　her　permission。
The　Essene　was　waiting　for　us。
'Now　what？'　I　asked　Fischig　hoarsely。
'Dammit；　I've　risked　everything　I　count　dear　to　get　you　this　far；'　he　replied。　'I　was　kind　of　hoping　you'd　know　what　to　do　now。'
'Cinchare；'　I　said。　'Tell　Maxilla　to　get　us　to　Cinchare。'
THERE　ARE　SOME　secrets　that　are　worth　keeping。
'What's　at　Cinchare？'　Bequin　asked。
'An　old　friend；'　I　said。
'Not　a　friend；　exactly；'　added　Aemos。
'No。　Aemos　is　right。　An　old　associate。'
'Two　old　associates；　to　be　specific；'　Aemos　added。
'Bequin　pulled　a　particularly　angry　face。　'You　pair　and　your　old　intimacies。　Why　don't　you　ever　give　a　straight　answer？'
'Because　the　less　you　kno　you　if　we're　caught；'　I　said。
'THE　NEW　LEAN　you；'　syruped　Maxilla　as　I　walked　onto　the　Essene's　bridge。
I　had　shaved　away　my　beard；　had　my　ragged　hair　clipped　back；　and　dressed　in　a　suit　of　black　linen　after　my　shower。　I　was　still　terribly
weak　on　my　feet　and　in　no　mind　for　Maxilla's　foolery。
'Course　is　set　for　Cinchare；'　Maxilla　said　stiffly；　apparently　recognising　my　mood。　His　gold…masked　servitors　chimed　in　agreement。
His　hooded　navigator；　all　senses　fixed　on　some　different；　quite　other　place；　said　nothing。
'I　have　a　question；'　said　Inshabel。　He　was　seated　at　secondary　navigation　position；　reviewing　the　star…maps。　'Why　Cinchare？　A　mining
world　out　in　the　edges　of　the　Segmentum；　almost　a　Halo　Star。　I　thought　we'd　be　trying　to　find　Quixos。'
'There's　no　point。'
'What？'　Maxilla　and　Inshabel　asked；　almost　in　unison。
I　sat　down　on　a　padded　leather　seat。　'Why　make　the　endeavour　to　find　Quixos　when　he　would　surely　kill　us　at　a　stroke？　We've　barely
survived　individual　encounters　with　two　of　his　daemonhosts。　We　haven't　the　strength　to　fight　him。'
'So？'　asked　Inshabel。
'So　the　first　thing　we　do　is　find　the　strength。　Prepare。　Arm　ourselves。　Make　ourselves　ready　to　take　down　one　of　the　most　powerful
evils　in　the　Imperium。'
'And　for　that　we　need　to　go　to　Cinchare？'　Inshabel　whispered。
'Cinchare's　the　start；　Nathun；'　I　said。　'Trust　me。'

SEVENTEEN
ROGUE　STAR。
DOCTOR　SAVINE；　CORA　AND　MR　HORN。
IN　THE　ANNEX。
EVEN　AT　FULL　warp；　it　took　the　Essene　thirty　weeks　to　reach　Cinchare。
True；　we　took　a　circuitous　route；　avoiding　all　possible　encounters　with　the　forces　of　the　Imperium。　I　hated　that。　For　once；　I　hated　the
subterfuge。
We　learned；　indirectly；　a　few　weeks　into　the　voyage；　that　my　escape　from　Cadia　had　been　discovered。　The　Inquisition　…　and　other
agencies　…　were　hunting　me。　I　had　been　formally　declared　Heretic　and　Extremis　Diabolus。　Lord　Rorken　had　finally　counter…signed
Osma's　carta。
I　was　now　something　I　had　never　been　before。
A　fugitive。　A　renegade。　And　in　aiding　me；　my　band　of　comrades　had　made　themselves　fugitives　too。
We　had　a　few　scrapes。　Refuelling　at　Mallid；　we　were　discovered　and　pursued　by　an　unidentified　warship　which　we　lost　in　the
empyrean。　At　Avignor；　a　squadron　of　Ecclesiarchy　battle…boats；　standing　picket　watch　along　the　border　of　the　diocese；　tried　to　run　us
to　ground。　We　only　escaped　that　one　thanks　to　a　combination　of　Maxilla's　shipcraft　and　Medea's　fighting　nous。
On　Trexia　Beta；　Nayl　and　Fischig　ran　across　a　band　of　arbites　hunters　while　they　were　trying　to　hire　an　astropath。　They　never　told　me
how　many　they　had　been　forced　to　kill；　but　it　sat　badly　with　them　for　weeks。
On　Anemae　Gulfward；　Bequin　succeeded　in　obtaining　the　services　of　an　astropath；　a　sickly　female　called　Tasaera　Ungish。　When
Ungish　found　out　who　I　was；　she　begged　to　be　returned　to　her　backwater　world。　It　took　a　long　time　to　convince　her　that　she　was　in　no
danger　from　me。　I　had　to　open　my　mind　to　her　in　the　end。
At　Oet's　Star；　we　were　discovered　by　an　Inquisitor　Frontalle　during　a　resupply　layover。　As　it　was　with　Riggre　and　the　Cadian　pilots；　I
will　always　be　haunted　by　those　necessary　deaths。　I　tried　to　reason　with　Frontalle。　I　tried　very　hard。　A　young　man；　he　believed　that
taking　me　down　was　the　key　to　a　famous　career。　Eisenhorn　the　Heretic；　he　kept　calling　me。　They　were　the　last　words　on　his　lips　when
I　pitched　him　into　the　geothermal　heating　exchanger。
From　Trexia　Beta　onwards；　there　was　an　almost　permanent　rumour　that　a　kill…team　of　the　Ordo　Malleus's　Grey　Knights　was　hunting
us。　And　the　Ordo　Xenos's　Deathwatch　Chapter　too。
I　prayed　to　my　God…Emperor　that　I　could　complete　this　task　before　the　forces　of　righteousness　overtook　me。　And　I　prayed　to　him　that
my　friends　might　be　spared。
BETWEEN　THOSE　ESCAPADES；　there　were　onl