Hammer and Anvil Page 8

  ‘I expect no less,’ said the questor. ‘After twenty months of sifting through the sands here, I will be most dismayed if our agreement with Hoth has rewarded you with nothing of merit.’

  Ferren had a group of demi-adepts come and escort Lumik and the others to a refurbishment post in the habitat cluster, where they could see to the sand clogging their gears, while the questor went with him directly to the primary laboratorium station.

  Once they were alone, it was only nine point four minutes before the tech-priest asked the question Tegas knew he was desperate to voice. ‘What of the Ordo Xenos’s involvement in our endeavour? We have heard nothing since our arrival. Have they kept their side of the bargain?’

  Tegas glanced at him. ‘You are here. I am here. For now that seems as we agreed it to be.’

  ‘But the Adepta Sororitas have come with you.’ Ferren’s metallic hands knitted in a nervous, human gesture. ‘How many Battle Sisters did they bring?’

  ‘A sizeable military force. Enough to kill us all, if they wished it.’ Tegas said the words without weight, leaving the stark declaration hanging as a test of Ferren’s courage.

  ‘Our tech-guards are formidable. They would find it a hard-fought battle.’

  ‘It will not come to that.’

  ‘It may come to something.’ Ferren offered him a capsule of libation, which the questor accepted and injected into a port in his cheek. ‘What we have unearthed here in the shifting sands… If the Mechanicus wishes to fully exploit it, we will need Sanctuary 101 turned over to us.’

  ‘The Sisterhood have prior claim. Don’t you think that if we could have taken this world so easily, we would have? But voices in the court of the High Lords of Terra speak strongly about the sanctity of the Sororitas colony…’ Tegas made a negative noise. ‘And for now we must show at least the pretence of concord with them.’ He helped himself to another capsule, enjoying the pleasing rush of the chemical’s effect. ‘Hoth is working to the same endgame as we are. And he has the ears of men of power on Terra and Mars.’

  ‘The Sisters of Battle will not go quietly,’ insisted Ferren. ‘Not when they learn what we have learned.’

  ‘And what is that, my student?’ Tegas slid across the floor towards him. ‘Would it be something to do with this?’ The questor produced a cloth bag from within the folds of his cloak and tossed it onto a nearby workbench.

  Ferren’s mechadendrites picked at the sack like snakes striking at a prey animal, and removed the object within. Light glittered off the necron skull and the tech-priest emitted a sound that resembled a gasp of pleasure. ‘Where did you find this?’

  ‘Canoness Sepherina discovered it inside the convent. Apparently the inquisitor’s sweep teams were not as diligent as he claimed.’

  ‘And she just… gave it to you?’

  Tegas chuckled. ‘The woman was desperate to be rid of it. I think she was unsettled by the presence of the thing.’

  The adept turned the metal form over and over. ‘I am detecting major internal damage within this module. Breakage of core hyperdynamic spatial linkage arrays, phase-effect nulls… That would explain why this piece did not deresolve with the rest of the corpse-metal when the unit was destroyed.’ He carried the skull reverently to another bench, where the torso and helmeted head of a helot was surgically implanted into the workstation there. The servitor awoke with a jerk and took the alien item from him.

  Ferren hesitated, and Tegas sensed he was not yet willing to let his concerns be so easily distracted by this new gift. ‘The women in the convent…’ He made a gesture in the air with his clawed hands. ‘In truth, my lord, it is not their discovery of this dig site, or indeed how long we have been in secret violation of their colony that concerns me. It is the Ordo Xenos that I fear. We are very far from home out here, and their reach is long. Since we have been on the surface, there have been anomalous sensings of objects at the edge of the system. I suspect they are probes.’

  Tegas gave a nod. ‘Sent by Hoth or his agents, no doubt. I don’t blame him. He wants to keep an eye on his investment. I imagine that he already has a covert operative embedded among your personnel.’

  The tech-priest reacted with a shocked twitch. ‘I hand-picked my party for this mission! There are no–’

  The questor waved him into silence. ‘Don’t be naïve, Ferren. I believe his spies were aboard the Tybalt, and it is very likely that at least one of the workgangers brought here by the Sisterhood is also in his employ.’ He looked away, gliding around the room, peering into stasis jars and microgravity pods. ‘It matters little. If Hoth could have secured this world by force, he would have done so. And then the Ordo Xenos and the Adeptus Mechanicus would be at guns drawn over this dust ball, even if the galaxy at large knew nothing of it.’

  ‘If that happens…’ ventured Ferren, his vocoder module crackling.

  Tegas shook his head again. ‘No. This is a matter in which we all are treading carefully.’ He studied some fragments of silver inside one of the preservation capsules, losing himself in the eerie glitter of the alien metal. ‘Do not allow yourself to be distracted by issues beyond your control. Instead, tell me what you have learned. This world once belonged to the necrontyr. Say it. I want to hear you say it to me.’ There was almost a measure of pleading in his voice. The questor had ventured across half the Imperium to get here, and he wanted it to be true above all else.

  Ferren’s machine-face bobbed once, twice. ‘It is so. There is no doubt. The necron species came to this planet several million years ago… Or at least, one faction of them did.’

  ‘A faction?’ Tegas echoed the word, the data-rod implants in his hindbrain glowing with life at the suggestion and the connections it made in his thoughts.

  ‘Oh, indeed, my lord. At first it seemed like an error in data processing… My dig party compared the scans of materials recovered here at the main site with those given to us by Hoth and his people. There were discrepancies.’

  ‘Human error,’ Tegas said automatically. To a man, the members of the Adeptus Mechanicus had little respect for the methods and record-keeping of any of the Imperium’s other august institutions, the Ordo Xenos included. If there was a discrepancy, it was typically a mistake made by someone outside the axis of the Mechanicus.

  ‘My initial hypothesis,’ agreed Ferren. ‘Until we recovered samples of our own to mount a comparative analysis.’

  The questor emulated a thrill of excitement. ‘What did you discover?’

  ‘Data that lends weight to a theory of differential sects within the alien society. It appears that the commonly-held opinion of the necrons as a monolithic culture, with little in the nature of divisive internal power blocs, is short-sighted at best.’ Ferren pointed a mechadendrite at the servitor working on the skull. ‘I believe that the necrons which attacked the convent and killed the Sororitas are not the same as the ones we have found evidence of here.’ He indicated the scraps of metal inside the stasis pods. ‘Construction, detail, cosmetic presentation, internal structure. All show numerous points of differentiation. Many of which are external and largely decorative, lending credence to the concept of tribal structures within the alien civilisation. Time-dating indicates that both groups of necrons are contemporaries.’

  Tegas could no longer contain his anticipation at this idea and turned in small circles as he played with Ferren’s discovery in his mind. ‘This theory has been aired before… It has been less than popular… But if we have proof…’

  ‘I am convinced of it,’ Ferren insisted. ‘For all we know, Kavir could have been the location of some sort of conflict, perhaps the result of a schism between two tribes of these alien machines. It would explain much… The patterns of damage in the crypts beneath the rock. The wreckage we have unearthed.’

  ‘Then perhaps… Perhaps the Sisterhood were only collateral damage.’ Tegas simulated a guttural chuckle. ‘That would dent their pride somewhat. To know their sainted Battle Sisters died merely because they happened to b
e in the way.’ He gave an oily sigh. ‘I would see more of your works here, Ferren. Show me all that you have done.’

  ‘It would be my honour,’ said the tech-priest, beckoning him to follow.

  ‘Milady, you will be displeased.’ Imogen said the words with a bow and looked up to give the canoness her full attention.

  Sepherina stood on the other side of the desk she had taken to using as her place of work inside the temporary command post, and glared at the Celestian. ‘It is not for you to decide what will or will not please me, Sister. Speak! You return from the catacombs beneath the donjon with wounded and weapons spent… Explain yourself to me.’

  The woman frowned, before outlining in frank and unembellished manner what the scouting party had discovered in the crypt-levels. Sepherina’s grim expression hardened as she went on.

  ‘The gun-servitors,’ she broke in, ‘where were they hiding? We detected no sign of them, they did not respond to any machine-call summons.’

  ‘I can only suspect that they were hidden from scrying by the thickness of the rock.’ Imogen nodded towards the stone walls. ‘From what I can determine from the remains, they were set to work autonomously and left to their own devices.’

  ‘For twelve years?’ Sepherina demanded.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘To what end?’

  Imogen came closer, her voice dropping. ‘They were guarding the mouth of a sealed tunnel. The passageway does not appear on any of the official documents or architectural drawings of the convent buildings.’

  The canoness glanced down and found a pict-slate on her desk, containing those self-same files. She paged through them, eyes narrowing. ‘You are certain of this?’

  ‘I am,’ Imogen replied. ‘Consider it, milady. The passage from the great chapel to that chamber below…’

  Sepherina did so, viewing the maps, tracing a line along the route from the main hall, down along the ramps to the lower levels and around the circular corridors. ‘If one were to go to ground, this is the path they would have taken.’

  The Celestian nodded her head. ‘A secret egress. We both know such things are a matter of course in our holdfasts across the galaxy, and it answers many questions. The enemy never made it down there, they never encroached that far. Perhaps they were stopped, driven back, or perhaps–’

  ‘Perhaps the last Sister was already dead by then,’ Sepherina broke in.

  Imogen nodded once more. ‘It is likely. I would warrant that if we examine the final command strings given to the servitors, we would find they were ordered to bring down the tunnel entrance and then guard the blockade until they were unable to do so any longer.’

  ‘Without Tegas and his people, that is beyond us,’ muttered the other woman.

  Imogen went on. ‘It was only the passing of time and the action of it upon their elderly and ill-maintained systems that turned the helots against us. They did not recognise us as humans, as their masters.’

  ‘And Sister Thalassa paid for that with her blood.’ Sepherina’s lips thinned. ‘Our first casualty and it comes from a bullet made by Imperial hands. Curse this place!’ She banged her fist on the table. ‘Every brick and stone here is a punishment to me!’ When the older woman looked up once more and met Imogen’s gaze, cold fire burned in her eyes. ‘Say the words, then, Sister Imogen. For the letter of the record, tell me of your… of our failure once more.’

  She released a long, slow breath. The Celestian had wanted so much to give the canoness the reply she truly wanted, the answer that both of them had devoted themselves to, but instead she was forced to speak a different and damning truth. ‘The relic that we seek is not in the catacombs. Nor within the central donjon and the outer wards, even the greater span of the convent grounds. It is gone, mistress, and I cannot tell you as to where.’

  Sepherina allowed a weak nod and she settled heavily into a chair. ‘And so it goes. Our long voyage has been for nothing.’

  ‘I have not given up hope,’ Imogen insisted. ‘If we can track the path of the egress tunnel, then we may be able to find the opposite end. If the relic was evacuated that way…’ She trailed off. Even as she spoke, her words seemed vague.

  ‘The God-Emperor and Saint Katherine themselves will damn me if I fall short in this, Sister.’ Sepherina spoke quietly. ‘It will be the greatest failure of my life.’

  Imogen shook her head. ‘The burden is shared equally,’

  ‘No,’ said the senior Sororitas. ‘It lies upon me. I should have been here! For years I have carried this remorse about my neck like a millstone, and today it weighs more than it ever has. I have come so close only to have my hopes dashed at the last instant… I swear that if I fail, I will surrender myself to the Repentia and give up my name, and even that will never be enough.’

  For a moment, Sister Imogen tried to imagine her canoness, masked in rags of blood-crimson, fighting under the whip as a member of the Sisterhood’s penitent brigade. Women who had wronged the Order or who voluntarily accepted reprimand filled the ranks of the Repentia, and it was written that they would fight the enemies of Imperial Truth until they were redeemed through death. She rejected the image. ‘Do not say such a thing,’ said Imogen. It troubled her to see the iron-willed Sister so distressed and sorrowful over something she had little control over. ‘All things are the God-Emperor’s will. If it was His wish that you not be in this place, then you served Him by being elsewhere. And now you will serve the Golden Throne by bringing His Light back to this forgotten world.’

  ‘It is not enough,’ Sepherina said softly. ‘Dear Sister, it is not nearly enough.’

  A gauntlet rapped on the door to the chamber and a figure entered, bowing as she came into the pool of light cast by the electrocandles. Imogen recognised the hospitaller Verity.

  ‘Forgive my intrusion, milady,’ began the younger woman, ‘but I was ordered to report to you immediately with word of Sister Thalassa’s condition.’

  ‘Give me something to be thankful for,’ Sepherina snapped at her. ‘Tell me you worked your own miracle with our Battle Sister’s life.’

  Verity coloured slightly. ‘I would not claim to work miracles, mistress. But by the God-Emperor’s Grace, Thalassa lives. Her torso armour took the brunt of the barrage from the autocannons, protecting her vitals from a fatal level of damage. However, it saddens me to tell you that she will not walk again under her own locomotion. Our facilities here are crude and those remaining intact in the convent’s valetudinarium do not include tissue regeneration devices. I would recommend augmetic surgery upon her person after she has had time to recover.’

  Sepherina gestured at the hospitaller. ‘So authorised. See to it, Sister.’

  The comment was clearly a dismissal, but the nursemaid did not move from where she stood; rather, Verity remained in place, her amber eyes steady on the canoness.

  ‘Is there something more, girl?’ Imogen demanded.

  Verity shot her a look. ‘Those broken machine-slaves robbed a woman of her legs. I cannot help but wonder why she was forced to surrender her future to a mission that goes unexplained.’

  Imogen’s eyes widened at the hospitaller’s challenging tone. Who does she think she is to speak in such a fashion? ‘It may be so within the Order of Serenity for a Sororitas to talk out of turn as you have, Sister Verity, but this mission is under the auspices of the Order of Our Martyred Lady – and your insolent manner courts censure and castigation!’

  ‘Is it disrespectful to seek the truth of something?’ Verity replied. Her voice trembled, but she fought to keep it steady. ‘Every Sister here will give her body, their life in the God-Emperor’s name, but with cause. Is it too much to ask to know why poor Thalassa will now end her days walking on iron legs instead of those she was born with? The question is asked, Sister Imogen, and not only by me. The question echoes about the halls of this place.’

  Sepherina rose and her cloak fell open behind her. She rounded the desk, advancing on the hospitaller. ‘What question?’
>
  ‘We…’ Verity could not help herself, and she shrank back a step. ‘We were brought here to reconsecrate this sacred place. But that is not all, I believe.’ The young woman steeled herself and met Sepherina’s eyes. ‘What are you looking for, mistress? Can we not be told, so that no more blood is wasted and shed?’

  For a long moment, Imogen thought that the canoness would strike the hospitaller across the face for her temerity, but then the tension in Sepherina shifted slightly, and her stiff pose eased a little. ‘I could ask you the same thing, Sister Verity.’

  The reply caught the other woman off-guard. ‘I-I do not understand.’

  ‘I know what happened to you on Neva. The mad plans of that deluded traitor LaHayn, but before that the death of your sibling Lethe. You put that to the earth and gave her to the God-Emperor’s will. You signed upon the charter for this mission – my mission – to Sanctuary 101 because you are looking for something. What is it?’

  ‘I don’t–’

  ‘Do not lie to me,’ Sepherina warned. ‘Answer.’

  Verity swallowed a breath. ‘Avowal. I seek a way to reaffirm my dedication to Holy Terra and my oath as a Sororitas.’

  ‘And here you will,’ Sepherina told her, ‘as long as you remember who you are. As long as you remember your place.’ She turned away. ‘Sister Miriya. She came upon this endeavour because you encouraged her to join us. And like you, she is seeking something. Do you know what it is?’

  Verity’s reply took a long moment to form. ‘Peace?’ she offered, at length.

  The canoness allowed a thin smile. ‘That remains to be seen. Miriya has been a dangerous and unpredictable soul among the regimented choir of the Adepta Sororitas. She has stood out when she had no need to, and drawn discord to herself. Think of her now, a promising career set back decades because of hubris.’ Imogen saw Verity open her mouth to leap to the other woman’s defence, but Sepherina continued on. ‘Those who stray too close to such behaviour can be coloured by it.’ She glared at the hospitaller. ‘Don’t allow her mistakes to let you feel you may make them also. Unless you too wish to be considered as outspoken and troublesome?’