When the Bird docked at bay nineteen, I emerged from it with Luther and Xavier to scope out the hangar’s surroundings. I also remained outside the Bird for longer still; Luther and Xavier would have sufficed at keeping watch, but even so, there was no harm in my assisting them. Of course, Penitent was ever by my side as well. Eventually, Castecael strolled up above me, standing on the apex of the Bird’s bay door, wearing a makeshift mask she had made for herself. “Why are you out here, Cal?” she asked.

“Acclimation,” I replied simply.

She blinked twice, then shook her head and turned to Penitent. “And you?”

“I go where he goes,” Penitent replied. Castecael looked back to me.

“Acclimation,” I repeated.

“Mirena was right, you’re both mad,” Castecael shook her head.

“She should say that to my face,” I chuckled.

“Someday I may,” Mirena replied, also wearing a mask, emerging from the Bird to stand at Castecael’s side. I nodded to her, and gestured over my mouth to silently ask about the mask she had. “Want one?” I nodded. “Shame, we ran out of scraps.”

“Then why ask?”

She chuckled and shrugged. “Why not?” Then she threw an arm around Castecael’s waist. I believed, but did not know, that they were involved. One could perhaps argue that the lives of an Inquisitor’s Agents were their Inquisitor’s business. But I had too much respect for my crew to pry, at least until the job demanded of it. The last thing I wanted from any of them was their resentment.

“I could order you to hand yours over,” I suggested with a shrug.

“You could.”

“Would you?”

“I would,” she nodded.

“Hm,” I noted, but did not make the request of her, and instead looked away.

“Cal,” Mirena called to me. I looked to her just in time to catch some scrappy rags, she having taken her mask off. “I can make do inside,” she grinned, though her eyes winced from the stench of the city. She then strode off to return to the cockpit. Castecael followed her, but kept her own mask.

I offered the rags to Penitent. “I’ll manage,” she shook her head.

“For Zha, then, when we regroup,” I shrugged, and stuffed the mask into my jacket.

***

Zha would not manage to procure a residency too far off the ground, instead needing to settle for a Habblock. I was less displeased than she was, and did not consider the result a failure, though it did suggest the city-stench was going to stick with us. I wagered that was the source of Zha’s displeasure.

We left the Bird on its own. There were not many in the Sector that could even pilot the thing if they wanted to steal it, and to break into it to begin with would have required an army. And furthermore, once inside, Inquisitorial symbols lined its bay. That would have been enough to scare any potential thief miles away from our vessel. I was not too concerned about it, and neither was Mirena. Mirena did ask for her mask back as we entered the city, though I declined, telling her that as she had donated it to my possession, I would see it put to better use—such as shielding our savant.

“Surely you Navy lot aren’t too afraid of a little stench,” Luther commented.

“Watch it, Vaigg,” Mirena grilled him. “Easy for your birdbrain to say behind a breather.”

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“Cool it, you two,” I scolded them both, all-too intimately aware of the Astra Militarum and Navis Imperialis’s rivalry. “Say, Xavier, feel anything amiss?” I asked of our Psyker.

“Nothing but the warm breeze coming from the city, sir,” Xavier replied from behind his silvery steel mask, his staff echoing against the steel plating of the hangar floor as he moved. ‘Warm breeze’ was a gentle way of putting it. “Anything I should be looking for in particular?”

“No, just curious,” I shrugged. I had thought to check in with my allied Psyker from time to time, and relied on his mind more than mine if given the opportunity. If there was a Warpspawn presence in Abseradon, I would have wanted to tell Scayn as soon as I knew. Of course, he had Psykers—plural—of his own, and likely would not have needed me and mine.

We arrived at Habblock 119, hab 22H in just under an hour of walking. Silas and Czevia were outside, installing some surveillance equipment. “Zha?” I asked them after a brief and mostly silent greeting.

“Inside, taking a shower,” Czevia replied.

“They have those here?” Mirena asked in genuine surprise, likely eager for one of her own after her—brief—exposure to the surfaceworld.

Silas made a noise that was probably a chuckle, though his helmet muffled it to the point of seeming like a grunt. I returned Luther and Xavier to Silas’s command, while the rest of us went on inside. Sensor dampeners had already been put in place by Silas and Czevia to reduce our auditory output.

“Make yourselves at home,” I shrugged, gesturing to our new hab. It was not particularly spacious. The whole thing had less room than the bay of our Bird, though that was perhaps an unfair comparison. “Ms. Trantos! You in here?” I called out. I could hear running water, though it did not sound as though the water pressure was particularly great.

“Yes, sir. Washing the city off me, though I imagine that won’t stick for more than a few moments,” she replied.

“Procured a mask for you, when you’re out,” I called again, glancing to Mirena, who shrugged and sat down on a couch. Castecael sat next to her.

“I am overjoyed, sir,” came the utterly uninspired reply from the shower.

“Castecael,” I started, and she stood to her feet. I held a hand up to her and shook my head. “Does this residence have enough room for your necessary equipment?”

She looked around for a few moments, then turned to me and nodded. “Not much elbow room, but yes, I believe so, sir,” she reported.

“Good. You and Silas can fetch it from the Bird whenever you and he have a moment. If you need additional hands, let me know,” I told her. She nodded and sat back down with Mirena.

“Where will you have me, Cal?” Penitent asked, as ever by my side.

“Wherever you can find comfort enough in this city to perform your worship, Penitent,” I replied, spreading my arms wide to offer her the pick of the lot to the hab.

“Thank you, Cal,” she nodded, but stayed by my side for longer still.

I paused for a moment, then added, “You may begin your prayers now, if you wish. As I said, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, smiling, and stepped further into the hab. She moved with such grace as to be utterly silent, even as she brought her Eviscerator with her everywhere she went. The great weapon likely weighed more than Zha did, but it did nothing to impede the Sister or add noise to her footfalls.

As Penitent left my side, Silas and his group joined it. His fireteam made to configure other internal apparatus, though, while he stayed by me. “How are we, Silas?”

“Encamped, sir,” he reported, the red eyes of his helmet beaming into my face with the white-painted skull behind them.

“Take your helmet off, Scion,” I said.

He shook his head. “Frankly, sir, I think I’d rather not.”

“You should acclimate sooner rather than later,” I told him.

His helmet stared at me blankly, emotionless, for a few moments. Then he reached behind it and dislodged it from his head. After he did so, and held it under his arm against his ribs, he took one long, deep breath in through his nose. “Ain’t that a bitch,” he muttered after a wincing sigh.

“Welcome to our world, chum,” Mirena replied. Silas nodded to her warmly, then turned back to me.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” he asked.

“When she’s ready, assist Castecael with procuring the equipment she needs from the Bird. I’ve instructed her to contact me—through you—for additional support if required,” I instructed. “You may wear your helmet for that journey, Silas,” I added with a grin.

“Throne’s mercy,” he replied, relieved. He then turned to Castecael. “At your ready, ma’am.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I can wait a moment,” Castecael told him.

“Throne knows I can, too,” he sighed and joined them on the couch.

“Sir?” Okustin spoke up from behind me. I was trying to keep vox communication to a minimum, as with billions of people in the city, someone was undoubtedly capable of cracking its encryption. But I did have to vox the location of our residency to Okustin, that he could find his way back to us. I turned to him.

“Status, Interrogator?”

“Master Rultrax—that’ll be you—has a meeting with a Magistratum representative in four days. You will be allowed one bodyguard,” Okustin reported, and glanced across the room to Penitent, who was kneeling and praying to her weapon.

I shook my head. “Not her. Won’t work. Are you up for it?” I asked him. Penitent refused to be addressed as anything other than Penitent. And she refused to wear anything more than the bindings of her faith, nor to part with her Eviscerator. A Sister Repentia was a fine bodyguard for an Inquisitor, but ruthless overkill for the halls of the Magistratum.

“I thought you’d never ask, sir,” Okustin smiled.