‘How might that go?’ asked Gaunt.
‘An expendable and not entirely void-worthy ship and a young crew of little experiential value,’ said Spika, ‘given into the charge of a man who will never make admiral now and who asks the wrong questions of his superiors. A mission that is so likely to end in disaster, only scraps can be risked.’
‘A good dose of cynicism is always healthy, I find,’ said Eadwine.
‘There were other clues,’ said Spika, a hardness in his voice. He looked at Gaunt. ‘I reviewed your file, those sections that were not restricted. Glorious moments early on, at Balhaut especially. Great favour. The achievements since have been considerable. I mean that. No one could fail to be impressed by your service record. But recognition has been scant since Balhaut. There is a sense that you have squandered great opportunities, and ended up achieving little credit for the expenditure of great courage and tenacity. Like me and my ship, you and your regiment are useful but disposable commodities.’
‘A good dose of cynicism is always healthy,’ replied Gaunt.
‘I don’t care who you are,’ rumbled Eadwine. ‘I don’t care if you’re the Warmaster himself. This is the Imperium of Mankind. We’re all of us disposable commodities.’
The lights dipped. There was a shudder. The warp embraced them.
‘I hate that,’ said Larkin. He froze and refused to continue walking until the ship lights returned to their original brilliance. There was an underdeck tremor. A distant exhalation.
‘Worst part of any trip,’ he added. The lights came back up, a frosty glare in the low deck companionway. He started walking again.
‘The worst?’ asked Domor.
‘Yes,’ said Larkin. ‘Apart from getting there.’
‘All true,’ said Domor.
They had reached the armoured hatchway of a hold space originally designed as a magazine for explosive ordnance. Rawne and Brostin were waiting for them.
‘I want a badge like that,’ said Larkin.
‘Well, you can’t have one,’ said Brostin. ‘It’s only for the kings.’
‘The kings can kiss my arse,’ said Larkin.
Domor looked at Rawne.
‘This could continue all day, major,’ he said.
‘And it still wouldn’t become amusing,’ Rawne agreed.
‘Gaunt wants us to see him,’ said Domor. ‘Is that all right?’
‘Yes,’ said Rawne. ‘Provided you’re who you say you are.’
Larkin winked at Rawne.
‘Come on, Eli, these’d be pretty rubbish disguises, wouldn’t they?’
‘What are you suggesting?’ asked Domor, a smile forming. ‘We forced our own faces to change shape?’
‘I’ve seen stranger things,’ said Rawne.
‘Nobody here is surprised,’ said Larkin.
Rawne nodded to Brostin. The big man banged on the door, and then opened the outer hatch.
‘Coming in, two visitors,’ said Rawne over his microbead.
‘Read that.’
A peephole slot in the inner door opened, and Rawne stood where the viewer could see his face.
The inner hatch opened. Rawne took Domor and Larkin through.
‘Got anything he could use as a weapon?’ asked Rawne.
‘My rapier wit?’ suggested Larkin.
Mabbon Etogaur was sitting on a folding bunk in one corner of the dank magazine compartment. The walls, deck and ceiling were reinforced ceramite, and the slot hatch for the loader mechanism had been welded shut. The prisoner was reading a trancemissionary pamphlet, one of a stack on his mattress. His right wrist was cuffed to a chain that was bolted to a floor pin.
Varl was sitting on a stool in the opposite corner, his lasrifle across his knees. Cant was standing in another corner, nibbling at the quick of his thumbnail.
Larkin and Domor came in and approached the etogaur.
He looked up.
‘I don’t know you,’ he said.
‘No, but I had you in my crosshairs once,’ said Larkin.
‘Where?’
‘Balhaut.’
‘Why didn’t you take the shot?’ asked Mabbon.
‘And miss a touching moment like this?’
‘That’s Domor, that’s Larkin,’ said Rawne, pointing.
‘Don’t tell him our damn names!’ Larkin hissed. ‘He might do all sorts of fethed-up magic shit with them!’
‘I won’t,’ said Mabbon.
‘He won’t,’ Rawne agreed.
‘He can’t,’ said Varl.
‘Why not?’ asked Larkin.
‘Because how else would I be the punchline for another of Varl’s jokes?’ asked Cant wearily.
Larkin snorted.
‘He won’t because he’s cooperating,’ said Rawne, ignoring the others.
‘And if I did,’ said Mabbon, ‘Rawne would gut me.’
‘He does do that,’ Larkin nodded.
‘What did you need from me?’ asked Mabbon.
‘A consultation,’ said Domor. He had a sheaf of rolled papers under his arm, and a data-slate in his hand.
‘Go on,’ said Mabbon.
Larkin took the pamphlet out of Mabbon’s hand and glanced at it.
‘Good read?’ he asked.
‘I enjoy the subject matter,’ said Mabbon.
‘A doctrine of conversion to the Imperial Creed?’ asked Larkin.
‘Fantasy,’ replied Mabbon.
‘He’d be a fething funny man if he didn’t scare the shit out of me,’ Larkin said to Rawne.
‘We’re leading the insertion effort,’ said Domor. ‘There’s training to be done, planning. We want to use transit time to get as ready as possible.’
‘Are you combat engineering?’ asked Mabbon.
‘Yes,’ said Domor. ‘Larks… Larkin, he’s marksman squad.’
‘I saw the lanyard.’
‘We want to go over the deck plans and schematics you’ve supplied so far. It may mean several hours work over a period of days.’
‘I’ll try to build time into my schedule.’
‘Some of the plans are vague,’ said Larkin.
‘So are some of my memories. It’s all from memory.’
‘If you go through them a few times,’ said Rawne, ‘maybe you can firm things up.’
The etogaur nodded.
‘If you go through them so many times you’re sick of them, maybe we’ll actually do this right,’ Rawne added.
‘I’ve no problem with that,’ said Mabbon. ‘I offered this to you. I want it to happen.’
Domor showed him the data-slate.
‘We want to talk about this too,’ he said. ‘This firing mechanism. We need to mock some up for practice purposes. You say this is fairly standard?’
‘It’s representative of the sort of firing mechanisms and trigger systems you’re going to find,’ said Mabbon, studying the slate image.
‘It’s just mechanical,’ said Larkin.
‘It has to be. They can’t risk anything more… more complicated. They can’t risk using anything that might interfere with, or be interfered with by, the devices under development at the target location. It’s delicate. Any conflict in arcane processes or conjurations could be disastrous.’
‘So just mechanical?’ said Larkin.
‘Complex and very delicate. Very sensitive. But, yes. Just mechanical.’
Larkin took the slate back.
‘It looks very… It looks very much like the sort of thing we use,’ he said. ‘It looks pretty standard.’
‘It’s the sort of trigger mechanism I would rig,’ Domor said.
‘Of course,’ said Mabbon. ‘Tried and tested Guard practice. This is the sort of thing I taught them how to do. And I learned it the same place you did.’
Larkin looked at Domor. There was distaste on his face.
‘Go get the folding table,’ Rawne said to Varl. ‘Let’s look over these plans.’
In berthing hold six, the lights stayed dim for a long time. When they came back up, it was without enthusiasm.