The confidential transit estimates at the point of departure suggested three to six days to Tavis Sun, for the fleet conjunction, and then another six to Salvation’s Reach. There was no reliable science. Some warp routes remained stable for centuries. Others vanished into hectic maelstroms overnight. All sorts of variables affected the journey time, both appreciated shipboard and external sidereal. One could travel for a month and arrive the day before one’s departure. One could set out for a three-day shift and never be seen again. If the bulk of the Armaduke’s rationed power was being diverted to turn the warp engine cogitators and assist the ship’s Navigator to track the beacon of the Astronomicon and ascertain the best possible route vector, then the passengers and crew of the Highness Ser Armaduke would be grateful enough.
Only the chiming of the ship’s bells marked the passage of time, but that was only the local time of the ship, a measurement of the turning of the clocks and horologs it took along with it into a hostile ocean outside time.
Nahum Ludd hurried through the quarter decks with the dockets and enlistment papers he’d finally managed to prepare for Meritous Chass. He’d hoped to have them done by the end of the first night shift aboard, but it was now well into the second day. There had been inspections to run, the settlement of the quartered troops, and the usual discrepancies between pharmacological supplies and other materiel signed aboard, and those actually physically present. Since before the long sojourn on Balhaut, but especially since, the regiment had a chronic problem with misplaced drugs. Ludd and Hark had worked closely with Dorden and Curth to curtail the losses, to little avail. There was always a grey market of procurement inside the Imperial Guard, and sometimes it was downright black. In the early days, Rawne had been ringleader for unofficial activity, but he had made a visible effort to keep his hands clean. Either he was a good liar, or others had usurped his criminal enterprises. Ludd had his eyes on a few people. Men always looked for power and control, and rank was one way of securing it. There were others. The trouble with the Tanith First was that they were loyal. They were loyal to the Throne and they were loyal to Gaunt, but that loyalty was ingrained, so they were almost perniciously loyal to each other. That meant they closed ranks and kept secrets. The underhand dealings that went on at the heart of every regiment were especially stealthy in the Ghosts.
Ludd was quite unsettled by the appearance of Chass. He’d said as much, privately, to Hark.
‘You’re threatened,’ Hark had said.
‘How do you figure that?’
‘Young man, young commissar, following in the master’s footsteps, Gaunt’s protégé,’ said Hark. ‘Then the actual son turns up.’
‘In this version of reality you describe, I see myself as Gaunt’s son?’ asked Ludd.
Hark nodded. ‘You even cut your hair the same way.’
‘I thought I was your protégé,’ said Ludd.
Hark had sniffed.
‘You wish. I’m one of a kind.’
‘This is just more of your systematic tormenting, to keep me on my toes, isn’t it?’ Ludd had asked.
‘If I told you that, it would have no beneficial effect whatsoever.’
Ludd wasn’t convinced. It was, perhaps, slightly true that he didn’t like the idea Gaunt might soon have a new favourite. But there was something else. Chass looked so much like Gaunt. Once you knew, it was painfully obvious. He was slender and gracefully slight by comparison, of course; just a boy, and a dainty, frail one at that, but Ludd recognised the likeness in him. If anything, Chass’s youthful features were even more refined. In inheritance from his mother’s side, perhaps. Gaunt was a well-made man. Chass, as an adult, would be more than just handsome.
It was the recognition that was difficult to deal with. Ludd saw Gaunt in Chass. It felt like he already knew him. It made him admire him, without even knowing him or wanting to. He responded to Chass, and he didn’t like it.
Ludd’s route took him down a grand companionway outside the Verghastite quarters, past the amusing spectacle of Mkoll presenting a double-headed eagle to the laughing Major Pasha. She was calling for her standard officer to take charge of the mascot, which flapped and clacked on Mkoll’s raised wrist. Women from the retinue, laden with tubs for the laundry, had stopped to watch and laugh.
An archway to Ludd’s left looked out over an assembly deck, a secondary hangar bay that could be brought into use by means of freight elevators from the primary excursion deck. It was the size of a parade ground. Out in the middle of it, he saw a single figure, training.
The figure was a blur. It was a close combat drill, executed using a bladed spear and a hovering practice remote.
He slowed and stopped. He watched. It was a genuinely terrifying display of speed, skill and aggression.
Though he had somewhere to be, Ludd took a deep breath and walked into the assembly space.
As he approached, the figure twisted and finally caught the drone, killing it with his spear’s blade. It fell to the deck. The warrior bent down, picked up the broken drone, and tossed it into a bucket where other smashed remotes had accumulated. He took up another one from a box beside the bucket, and prepared to arm and launch it.
‘What do you want?’ he asked. He hadn’t even looked at Ludd.
‘I want to know if I’m permitted a question.’
Brother Kater Holofurnace of the Iron Snakes turned to look at him. He had his massive spear in one paw and the drone in the other. Ludd felt fear in his bowels, in his gut, in his throat.
‘Commissar?’
‘Yes. Ludd.’
‘I do not care in any way about your name. You are a discipline officer?’
‘Yes.’
‘I will give you one answer,’ said Holofurnace. ‘Give me your question.’
‘There are three of you. Three lent to us for this mission. Why three different Chapters?’
‘That’s your question?’
‘It is.’
Holofurnace pursed his lips.
‘You are a discipline officer. You should know it is improper and unprofitable to interrupt a man when he is schooling for war,’ he said.
Ludd paused.
‘Is that your answer?’
‘It is.’
‘But–’
‘I never said my answer would match your question.’
Ludd opened his mouth, but didn’t know what else to say.
‘You can go away now,’ said Holofurnace.
Ludd turned. He heard the remote hum as it was launched. He heard the chop of the spear as it started to spin.
‘The truth is, I don’t want to know,’ said Elodie.
‘That’s not the truth at all,’ said Juniper. The amusing distraction of the eagle had finished. The women were moving on towards the laundry.
‘You’re helping us with the wash today, are you Elodie?’ asked Urlinta.
‘No. Why are you doing laundry?’ asked Elodie. ‘We’ve only been in shift a day.’
‘There’s always washing and mending to do,’ said Juniper.
‘You can tell she’s an officer’s woman, can’t you?’ laughed Urlinta.
‘As for this business,’ said Juniper, ‘you want to know about it.’
‘I thought he was a decent man,’ said Elodie.
‘That is generally the opinion held of your nice captain,’ said Juniper.
‘Then again,’ said Nilwen, ‘he’s a man. And he’s a lasman. They’ll stick it anywhere.’
‘Nilwen isn’t really helping,’ Juniper told Elodie. ‘So, he knows this woman, this officer? From Verghast, you say? So what?’