At that moment, Inquisitor Thaddeus wished he had not been given the mission at all. Though the higher purposes of the Inquisition were burned into his remarkably resilient mind, he was still ultimately just a man, and he knew a dead end when he saw it. The few available leads had dried up, and the man now sitting across the untidy desk opposite him was, grim as it sounded, possibly his last hope.
'I do hope I am not inconveniencing you,' said Thaddeus, who never saw any reason to be impolite no matter what his state of mind. 'I understand the importance of the work done here.'
The numbers aren't important.’ said Adept Diess. 'I just stamp forms all day' Diess had, until recently, been a fit man, middle-aged but wearing well. Now he had given up on himself and was putting on weight, though he still looked sharper than anyone on this planet had a right to be.
Thaddeus cocked an eyebrow. 'You sound as if the Emperor's grox farms do little to inspire you. Median Vrintas would be discouraged to hear that.'
'If you had spent as much time as I have balancing the books for this place, you would know that Median Vrintas can hardly count. She can have her opinions but I keep this planet making the Admin-istratum tithes.'
Thaddeus smiled. 'You speak freely. A rare thing, believe me. Refreshing, in a way.'
'If you have come here to kill me, inquisitor, you will do it no matter what I say. If you have not, you won't waste the bullet.'
Thaddeus sat back in the uncomfortable chair. The other adepts had shown the sense to leave the office before Thaddeus had to ask for them to be removed, so the only sound was the grinding of a cogitator somewhere in the back of the low-ceilinged room. Dust motes floated in the thick light from the setting sun outside.
The office was home to maybe thirty adepts, each at a partitioned workstation. Every wall and surface was covered with paper - statistical printouts, graphs, charts, graphic depictions of the many diseases that plagued the common grox, and grim notices reminding the adepts of the ceaseless sacrifice they were compelled to make for the Imperium. The Administratum tried to foster the same atmosphere whether it was running a palace or a workhouse - its members dedicated their lives to the work that kept the Imperium running, the unending mundanity of jobs without which the macro economy of the Imperium would collapse.
'You are an intelligent man, adept. Not many men of your station would know an inquisitor when they saw one. Median Vrintas certainly didn't. I have heard men swear blind we don't exist, or that we're all fighting evil gods and don't bother with the likes of mortals such as yourself. But you seem to know rather more than them. Am I right, consul?'
The adept smiled bitterly. 'I am glad to say I no longer hold that office.'
'I think we understand one another, Consul Senioris Iocanthus Gullyan Kraevik Chloure. You know what I am here to talk about.'
'It's been a long time since anyone called me that.' Ghloure seemed almost nostalgic. 'I could have had command of a whole sector, if I'd just toed the line for a few years more. But, I wanted too much too fast. You've probably seen it before.'
You understand.’ said Thaddeus without changing his tone, 'that Inquisitor Tsouras condemned you to death in your absence.'
'I assumed so.’ said Chloure. 'How many of the others got out?'
'Not many. Captain Trentius was spared, although he will never pilot anything larger than an escort. A few menials that Tsouras decided were sufficiently minor to be incapable of true incompetence. But most of the rest were executed. I must say, though Tsouras is not the subtlest of my colleagues, you have showed great resourcefulness in evading him for as long as you have.’
Chloure shrugged. 'I planet-hopped for a while. Faked up some references, I talk the talk so there weren't too many questions. I got posted here eventually, and I wasn't intending to go anywhere else. Not many people look on a place like this for a wanted man. At least, I thought so until you turned up.'
'You should know, consul, that you don't do anything in the Administratum without someone writing it down. Your paper trail was long and winding but I have associates who could follow it.'
'Well.’ said Chloure. He looked more exhausted than frightened, as if he had always known this day would come and just wanted it over with. 'The Soul Drinkers.'
'Yes. The Soul Drinkers. In light of your cooperation, I shall let you begin.'
Chloure sat back and sighed. 'It was three years ago, you know the dates better than I do. Anyway, we had been detailed to take over the Van Skorvold star fort. We knew Callisthenes Van Skorvold had some alien trinket that was particularly valuable. We fed it into a couple of databases and found out it was the Soulspear.’
'The Soul Drinkers artefact?'
'The very same. It was a legend the search turned up, some poem about how it could level cities and kill daemons and such like, and how they'd lost it.' Chloure sat up sharply and leaned across the desk. 'I am a greedy man, inquisitor. I am ambitious. I could have let the Imperial Guard do it but I wanted it finished quicker and cleaner. I know I could have left the Soul Drinkers out of it entirely. If I had just played it by the book I would have saved us all a lot of grief. But like I said, I'm greedy. I mean, we all want something.'
There are far graver sins, consul.’ Thaddeus said, with a veneer of understanding that surprised many. 'You let the word go out that you had found the Soulspear. The Soul Drinkers would arrive, eliminate all resistance, and take the item, leaving you to march into the star fort unopposed. Is that the case?'
'If it had happened like that I wouldn't be shovelling grox dung for the rest of my life. But you know all of this.’
'What can you tell me about Sarpedon?'
Chloure thought for a second. 'Not much. I only saw him on the bridge screen. We had an Adeptus Mechanicus ship with us. They sent a teleport crew into the star fort and snatched the Soulspear right from under Sarpedon's nose.’
Thaddeus could imagine what Sarpedon must have looked like to the gaggle of naval officers and Administratum adepts - a Space Marine commander, a psyker, an angry man burning with betrayal.
Chloure was calm, having imagined his final reckoning with the Inquisition for some time, but even so the fear he must have felt when he first saw Sarpedon played briefly over his face. Were you able to judge his state of mind?' asked Thaddeus. 'His intentions?'
Chloure shook his head. 'I wish I could help you more, inquisitor. He was angry. He was prepared to kill anyone who got in his way, but you know that. You haven't found them, have you? That's why you're here. Not for me.’
Thaddeus's face betrayed nothing. 'The Soul Drinkers will be found, consul.’
You must be desperate to have gone to the trouble of tracking me down. I was just along for the ride, Inquisitor Tsouras was calling the shots and presumably he couldn't help you. What did you think I could tell you?'
Chloure was a sharp man. In many ways he was the first decent adversary Thaddeus had encountered for some time. It was difficult to threaten a man who was perfecdy resigned to his death sentence. He had guessed what Thaddeus was loathe to admit - the Soul Drinkers' trail had turned cold. There were barely any leads left from the debacle at the Cerber-ian Field when Tsouras and the battiefleet, nominally under Chloure's command, had been outfoxed and eluded by the fleet of the renegade Space Marine Chapter. Sarpedon and his Chapter numbered less than one thousand men, and such a force was barely a speck in the vastness of the Imperium, almost invisible against the boundless galaxy.