Dan Abnett - Eisenhorn Omnibus

I made a resolution. If I lived, if I vanquished Glaw, I would destroy the Malus Codicium and then return to Gudrun and destroy Cherubael. I would take my runestaff and annihilate it, just as I had annihilated its kin Prophaniti on Farness Beta.

* * *

Jeganda system is dominated by a huge, ringed gas giant. In orbit above it is an semi-automated waystation established and maintained by a consortium of trade guilds and Navigator houses as a stop-over and service facility.

The Essene coasted in. There was no sign of any other vessels. Maxilla made contact with the station master and a drone tug led us into one of the wide docking gantries that extended from the rim of the dish-shaped station.

I crossed via the airgate with Maxilla and Medea and we were met by the master, a hirsute, sluggish man called Okeen. He ran the place with a staff of four. It was a twenty-month contract, he explained, and then they stood down in favour of a fresh crew. They didn't get many visitors, he told us. They'd be happy to resupply the Essene's technical needs, for a competitive price, he told us.

He told us plenty. Isolation does terrible things to men's minds.

We couldn't shut him up. I finally left him with Maxilla. Maxilla could talk too.

Medea and I went to the station's central hub to see if the resident astropath had received any messages for us from Gideon. It was a dismal place of rotting and poorly maintained hallways and dark hangars. There was a background smell that I decided was spoiled meat and Medea maintained was stale lactose.

It turned out that, despite Okeen's non-stop chatter, there was one thing he hadn't told us.

Someone was waiting for us in the recreation lounge.

'Gregor.' Fischig rose to his feet from a threadbare couch. He was dressed in black with a waist-length shipboard cape of dark red, wire-shot fully that was secured at his throat with a small, silver Inquisitorial crest.

I faced him across the room. "What are you doing here, Godwyn?'

'Waiting for you, Gregor. Waiting for a chance to make things right.'

'And how do you propose doing that?'

He shrugged. It was an open, relaxed, almost apologetic gesture. 'I said things I shouldn't have. Judged you too quickly. I always was a hard-nosed idiot. You'd think my years of service with you might have taught me the error.'

'You'd think/ quipped Medea.

I held up a warning finger to silence her. 'You made your feelings perfectly clear on Hubris, Fischig. I'm not sure we can work together any more. There's a mutual lack of trust/

'Which I want to do away with/ he said. I'd never heard him so calm or sincere.

'Godwyn, you questioned my purity, branded some of my actions heretical and then offered to redeem me/

'I was drank for that last part/ he said, with a tiny flash of smile.

'Yes, you were. And what are you now?'

'Here. Willing. Reconciled/

'Well/ I said. 'Let's start with the "here" part. How the hell did you know I'd be here?'

He paused. I looked round slowly at Medea who was studying the deck.

'You told him where I'd be, didn't you?'

'Uhm…'

'Didn't you?'

She snapped round to face me, every bit as haughty and rebellious as her dear, damned father. 'All right, I did! Okay? We need Fischig-'

'Maybe we don't, girl.'

'Don't "girl" me, you bastard! He's one of us. One of the band. He kept sending to the ship. Sending and sending. You wouldn't listen to him, so I replied.'

'Nayl told me he'd sent one message.'

'Yeah/ she said snidely. 'And Nayl told me what you'd sent back. The big brush-off. To a man who's devoted his life to you. A man who got a bit angry with you and then thought about it and regretted it. Fischig wants to make amends. He wants to be with us again. Haven't you ever regretted anything?'

'More than you can possibly imagine, Medea. But you should have told me.'

'I asked her not to/ Fischig said. 'I imagined how you'd react. I'm grateful Medea thought so highly of me. Could you not find it in you to trust me again? Trust me like she does?'

'Quite possibly. But I wanted to do it on my terms, when I was ready. There's too much going on just now/

'Oh, come on/ implored Medea.

'How did you get here?' I asked Fischig sharply.

'I got passage on a tramp trader. It dropped me off here a week ago/

I'd asked the question so I could test his reply and get a measure of his veracity. As he answered, and I probed delicately out with my mind, I found the last thing I was expecting.

'Why are you psi-shielded?' I asked.

'Just a precaution/ he said.

Against what?' I demanded.

Against this moment/ Fischig said. There was true anguish in his eyes. He drew the compact bolt pistol out from under his cape.

'Fischig!' Medea howled in horror.

Barbarisater was already in my hands, humming. 'Don't be a fool/ I said.

He'd only be a fool if he was doing this alone.

The words were not vocal. They were burning wires of psychic venom wrapped around a monstrous cudgel of mental force that smashed into the back of my skull. I stumbled forward, half-blind. Medea fell over hard, totally unconscious.

I saw figures emerging from the doorways off the lounge space all around. Five, six, more. Men dressed in the hooded, burgundy armour of an inquisitor's personal retinue, their chest plates decorated with gold leaf in the form of the Inquisition's crest. Two of them grabbed me and ripped the force sword from my slack fingers. The others aimed their weapons at me.

Don t hurt him! Don't hurt him!' Fischig cried.

The guards dragged me round to face an individual emerging from the lounge's greasy kitchenette area. I saw a tall man in black armour and robes, with a monstrous face that had been surgically deformed to inspire fear and loathing. It was equine, snouted, with a mouth full of blunt teeth and dark pools for eyes. Fibre-wire and fluid-tubes formed gleaming ropes across the back of his skull.

He'd once been the pupil and interrogator of my old, long-dead ally Commodus Voke. Now he was an inquisitor in his own right.

'Eisenhorn. How simply vile to see you again/ said Golesh Constantine Pheppos Heldane.

The guards dragged Medea and me back on board the Essene. I was still dazed. I could hear Fischig begging Heldane to order his men to be more careful with us.

Oh, what a mistake Fischig had made.

As we were bundled through the stations docking gantries, I saw the sleek black shape of an Inquisitorial cruiser now occupying the dock station next to the Essene. Heldane's ship. It had probably lain concealed in the atmosphere of the gas giant until the trap was sprang.

They took us into the main stateroom. Heldane's men, and I guessed there must have been a full detachment, had secured the Essene.

'How many travellers with you?' Heldane snapped at me.

I made no answer.

'How many?' he repeated, following his words with a blade of psi-pain that made me cry out. I needed to concentrate. I needed to rebuild my mental defences.

Feigning injury, I looked around and took stock. Maxilla stood nearby, surrounded by guards, glowering. Eleena was sitting bolt upright and pale on a couch. Medea was sprawled on the floor, just waking up. There was no sign of Aemos or Kara.

'Four!' said Maxilla. These four. The rest are my crew, servitors all of them, slaved into my ship/ He was playing the part of the innocent shipmaster, outraged at the invasion of his vessel, distancing himself from his troublesome passengers. But I knew he was frightened.

You're lying. I can tell/ said Heldane, pacing round Maxilla. Your defences are good, I'll grant you that, ship-master. Don't lie to me/

'I'm not-' Maxilla began and then cried out in pain.