‘Re-targeting,’ announced the gunnery commander. He was on the upper deck but his voice came through a speaker just in front of the command position where Kulik stood. ‘Adjusting for range.’
‘Ork ships are turning, captain,’ came the report from the scanning consoles.
‘Here they come,’ whispered Shaffenbeck. ‘Straight for us, I bet.’
‘Belay fire order, check new course headings,’ snapped Kulik. He didn’t want to risk hitting the Saint Fatidicus if the orks drastically changed their heading.
‘Sir, the orks are…’ The lieutenant stopped and double-checked his screens. ‘Captain, the orks are breaking away.’
‘They’re what?’ Kulik’s voice went up an octave with surprise.
‘Disengaging, captain. New headings are taking them away from the Colossus.’
Kulik looked first at Shaffenbeck and then at Price. They were both as shocked as he was. It was the first lieutenant who voiced his surprise first.
‘But surely that’s premature? No ork would run from a fight without first at least firing a few salvos at us.’
‘They must have known they couldn’t win against a cruiser and battleship combined,’ said Price. ‘I’m surprised they didn’t cut away sooner rather than take the risk.’
‘Well, that’s just it, isn’t it, admiral,’ said Kulik. ‘They stayed long enough to inflict some damage on the Saint Fatidicus and then disengaged. Hit-and-run.’
‘Do we recall air wings and pursue, captain?’ asked Shaffenbeck.
Kulik looked at the sub-display that now contained the strategic system map. The orks were heading back towards a cluster of enemy signals around an asteroid field a few hundred thousand miles away. Only the enhanced sensor suites of an Oberon-class could distinguish between the dormant attack ships and the celestial debris. The captain’s eyebrows rose even higher. ‘Are they…? Are they trying to lure us into an ambush?’
‘Emperor’s Throne, that’s subtle for an ork…’
‘Don’t blaspheme.’
Ten
There was some satisfaction to be gained from knowing that matters were in hand and that plans long in maturing were finally bearing fruit, but Wienand knew better than to celebrate too soon. Though she sat in her quiet chambers with a sheaf of reports from Mars, Titan and the ships of the Battlefleet Solar, the Inquisitorial Representative’s thoughts were fixed firmly on Terra. Lansung was, for the moment, en route to the front lines and incapable of solidifying his hold on the Senatorum. The fact remained that his influence had only been made possible by the self-serving nature of the High Lords currently occupying the Senatorum Imperialis.
A balance had been lost somewhere along the way. Wienand could not point to a particular period, a specific appointment, or name an individual responsible, but the checks and measures intended to keep the Senatorum functioning had failed.
Fixing it was just as complex, but Wienand had a plan now that Lansung was away fighting his war. The repairs had to begin from within the Senatorum Imperialis. To try to instigate massive changes from outside invited resistance and division, when unity was of paramount importance if the ork threat was to be dealt with.
However, there was an irony in that the very unity Wienand and others sought was the source of the current dysfunction. One of the regulating principles of the ruling council was that self-interest prevented the component organisations allowing any one or two of their fellows to gain too much power. A fractious harmony, tense but productive, was the best environment for government. Too many debates and nothing happened; too few and individuals like Lansung profited greatly.
The rot had started and would end with the Lord Commander. Udin Macht Udo and his predecessors could not be blamed for failing to live up to the standards set by Roboute Guilliman, but they should have been held accountable. It was the Lord Commander who sat as chair of the Senatorum and it was the Lord Commander who, by their title alone, was solely responsible for the protection and continuation of the Imperium. The Lord Commander could not have foreseen the ork resurgence but Udo certainly should have taken a lead in the response rather than deferring to Lansung. Whether corrupt or incompetent, Udo was no longer fit for the duty, but removing him threatened civil war.
A gentle knock at the door broke Wienand’s train of thought. She realised that she had been subconsciously scribbling notes on the reports with her auto-quill even as her conscious mind had been examining the Senatorum issue. She sealed the papers back into the static-locked sleeve and called out for the visitor to enter.
It was Rendenstein, her latest attaché-cum-bodyguard. A former lieutenant in the Imperial Guard, she had been brought to Wienand’s attention many years earlier and had submitted to months of physical and mental therapies to prepare her for a role as an inquisitor’s agent. Rendenstein had aided her mistress in many investigations and proven herself invaluable in both fistfights and firefights. The secretariat had the demure appearance of a tall, well-proportioned middle-aged woman, but beneath her pale skin was a reinforced skeleton and bio-enhanced subdermic armour layer that made her extraordinarily strong, and able to withstand bullets and las-shots. Cerebral and secondary limbic processors gave her a reaction time impossible for a normal human.
Rendenstein was also capable of eidetic recall, due to the crystal storage device in her frontal cortex, making her ideal as a personal scribe, secretariat and assistant. She never forgot names, faces or dates.
‘You have visitors.’ There was no formality between the two of them. Rendenstein had quickly learnt that her mistress preferred accuracy and brevity over all other concerns. The two had saved each other’s lives many times and though Wienand held the rank, they considered themselves equals with different skill-sets. The fact that they were occasional lovers sealed the bond between them. ‘Lastan Neemagiun Veritus is requesting your attention.’
‘Veritus is requesting? That does not sound like the Veritus I know.’
‘Demanding. Sorry, I did not even know that he had arrived on Terra.’
‘Neither did I, which means he intended to turn up unexpected on my doorstep. That also means he won’t go away until I see him, so you might as well prepare a proper welcome and send him in.’
‘He is not alone.’
‘Oh? Let me guess…’ Wienand considered who would be likely to accompany the veteran inquisitor. ‘Samuellson? Van der Deckart? Asprion Machtannin?’
‘Two of the three. Samuellson is not here, but Veritus has Namisi Najurita with him, and another I do not recognise.’
‘Najurita? She is the last person I thought would find cause with Veritus. He and she could hardly be more different. All right, I will see them in the Octagon.’
‘Should I remain with you? Is this a conclave?’
‘Not yet, unless Veritus wants to make it official. I think I know what he wants, but let us find out from the man himself. But yes, I’ll want you present to record everything. Just in case.’
After Rendenstein had left, Wienand locked away her reports and then slid the file repository back into the wall, absentmindedly shutting the concealing panel as her thoughts turned to Veritus. There was no point keeping him waiting; it would only shorten his temper even further.
She found her fellow inquisitors waiting for her in the Octagon as she had instructed. If ever the Inquisition was accused of being paranoid, the Octagon would be cited in evidence for the prosecution. The eight-sided chamber had the appearance of a reading room or antechamber, about a hundred foot across, lined with wood panelling. It was built on three tiers, with cushioned seats between the eight sets of steps leading to the lower floor. This lowest level betrayed some of the hidden precautions of the Octagon; the white stone was inlaid with lines of lead in a complex hexagrammic ward. Behind the wooden panels on the walls was a similar labyrinth of anti-psychic sigils and designs, powering a null generator that suppressed the abilities of any psyker within the room.