“How is he?” The old commissar had taken off his hat, fiddling absently with the hem outside the makeshift medical tent the soldiers had set up. These were the first words he had spoken in a very long time.

“Anders is stable, sir.” The chirurgeon removed his mask and gloves, letting a guardsman pour a bucket of water over his hands. “Well, as stable as can be. We have him sedated to help with the healing. And also because he will jump down that chasm first chance he gets.”

“My Schola Abbott would flay me alive for saying so, but it seems a man can be too goddamn loyal.” Gramps shook his head. “The Master of the Tally is missing, and the Keeper is incapacitated. What do the regs say for this situation?”

“According to our manuals and the Ajaxis documents, Commissar,” one of the Munitorum adepts squeaked, half-buried under the vellum scrolls and hide-bound tomes he was carrying, “you have temporary command until the Keeper regains his senses.”

Gramps nodded. “I assumed so. Lukas, take Sand’s bodyguard and retrieve the Tally from Anders. We need to keep it in safe custody.”

The guardsman called Lukas nodded. “Yes, sir. But first, we have business to take care of.”

Loran sighed. She had known this was coming, but it did not make it any less frustrating.

The lines on the old commissar’s face deepened. “Has Nug…?”

“He is stable now. Can’t walk yet, but he can talk. Well, as good as he can talk usually.”

Gramps nodded. “Then we will convene the court-martial of Sister Sabrus of the Order of the Unbroken Line. Summon the representatives of the Ecclesiarchy, the Mechanicus, and the Munitorum. Her charge: attempted fratricide.”

A scattering of assent and approving shouts sounded through the gathered crowd, but Lukas nodded at her. “And what about this one?”

“What about the Inquisitor?”

“She tried to place the Colonel under arrest, Gramps. She tried to shoot him. She threatened to kill all of us.”

The commissar sighed. “While what she did was… distasteful, she was well within her rights as an Inquisitor to accuse someone of a crime. If she has made a mistake, it is for the Inquisition to redress.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t here now, are they?” one of the men behind Loran said, fingering his gun. “All it takes is one little las-bolt…”

“I assure you,” she snapped, “it’ll take many more than one.”

“Enough. We can’t afford to waste time. Medicae, inform me at once when Anders wakes up.” The commissar nodded at the chirurgeon. “Retrieve the accused from her confinement. We will hold the inquiry at the commander’s post.”

“Aye, commissar.” Lukas nodded at a few of the others, and the group marched off at a steady, but disconcertingly eager pace.

Behind Loran, Sister Superior Karina leaned in. “I do not like this, my lady. Please stop this trial.”

“Do you think they’d listen?” she whispered back. “Like it or not, we can’t force our way through here.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Your sister will not be executed. I can assure you of that. But if you want to save her, I need you to help me.”

A shadow crossed Karina’s face. “I… The palatine wanted her punished, Inquisitor. I could not possibly interfere with her will.”

She sighed. “Think for a moment, Karina. I know they don’t like it when you do that in those stuffy cathedrals, but think.”

Karina stiffened at the veiled insult to the priesthood, but did not protest. Not too radical, then. Good.

“Veridara wanted her punished, yes. But killed? Over a mere ogryn? Surely no loyal servant of the God-Emperor would want that.” She leaned in closer, letting a deliberately conspiratorial tone into her voice. “Unless you are suggesting that she had… other loyalties.”

“No, my lady.” For the first time in her presence, Karina’s reply was swift. Confident. “She may be young, but Veridara… excuse me, Palatine Veridara is steadfast in her loyalty. I am sure of it, and anyone in the Order will agree.”

“Good, good.” She let a sense of relief enter her voice. “I did not think so either, but it’s always good to double-check. All it takes is one wrong, one seed of evil, to sprout into a tree that dooms us all. Is that not right?”

“Idleness is the root of heresy.”

“Indeed, indeed.” She nodded sagely. “And what greater idleness could there be than to watch a warrior of the emperor’s faith be slaughtered over a mutant? Is that the God-Emperor’s justice, sister superior? You know His will better than I.”

She could see it in her face. Karina’s mind was made up. She had won.

“No, Inquisitor Loran. That is not His way.”

“Then I suppose your sisters will stand with me when the time comes? Unless the Order wishes to sacrifice its own, that is?”

“We are with you. The followers of the false god must be frustrated. The Emperor’s Will demands it. What do you require?”

“Answers.” She nodded at the medical tent. “You have been spending time with these… soldiers, have you not? I need to know some things about their culture.”

Karina frowned. “Why learn about their idolatry, my lady? It is heresy, or at least dangerously close.”

“Alas, heresy is my trade. Besides, in a straight fight, there is no way we can get Sister Sabrus to safety. I need some way to nullify them.” She clenched her fist. “Remind them where their loyalties should lie.”

Karina sighed. “I see. But I’m afraid I must disappoint you. They have not revealed anything of much consequence so far. Our brief time together was spent either in exchanging barbs or in battle. We learned more about their machine faith than I ever wanted to, but no secrets.”

“I suppose even heretics are not so foolish.” Loran rubbed her chin. “Is there truly nothing we can do? That can’t be right. The God-Emperor always lights the way of His faithful.”

Of course, she knew that was bullshit. By all rights, her father would be invincible then. But all a martyr needed was a sword to fall on. She could almost smell the determination oozing from Karina’s pores.

She had never been sure whether it was the psychic ability or something else, but she could do that sometimes. Know, somehow, what drove people in the moment. Honour. Anger. Pride. Greed. Lust. All motivations she had used to her advantage in the underhive. Of course, rarely had she had the opportunity to do so in such pious circumstances.

“I will see what I can do, Inquisitor.” Karina nodded and jammed her helmet back on. “For now, we should attend the trial, or they’ll probably kill her the moment it starts.”

The site for the trial had been chosen at the base of the camp’s flagpole, where the Imperial Aquila and the Cog Mechanicus hung side by side on separate flags. As if the two were equal. Below them, a few benches had been joined together to seat the judges: the commissar, flanked by a few of the cadets from the regiment’s Prefectus detachment, a wizened Enginseer of the Regiment fiddling with a contraption even as his eyes remained dead set ahead, a gangly bureaucrat in Munitorum robes being tended to by a dozen scribes, and a quiet, composed priest of the Ecclesiarchy, power hammer slung over his shoulder as his fingers played with a tiny metal Aquila.

The table was surrounded on all sides by a gaggle of soldiers, officials, and labourers: evidently, the entire camp had gathered to watch. Except the Skitarii, of course. They were still off somewhere she could neither see nor sense, conversing with their Techpriest masters.

In the middle of the loose circle, the accused knelt, flanked by two armed soldiers. Sabrus, stripped of her power armour and undersuit, had been roughly covered by a blanket someone had no doubt scrounged up from the bottom of the regiment’s laundry backlog. Despite the microclimate generators maintaining a pleasantly stable temperature, she shivered from what she could only assume was a mixture of shame, anger, and fear, eyes darting through the crowd like a cornered animal.

At least there were no signs she had been beaten or abused. Loran silently thanked the God-Emperor for that small mercy. However, thick iron manacles bound her hand, feet, and neck together, lashed to rods and plates around her knees that forced her to remain kneeling. The instrument seemed to have been made precisely for the purpose of holding an accused as brutally as possible; she could think of no other reason it could have been found outside an Inquisitorial torture chamber, or perhaps a dungeon on a Pleasure World.

She had seen worse, of course. Just not quite in such a context.

The commissar removed his cap and placed it on the table. “I believe that everyone important is here. As the acting commanding officer, it is my greatest privilege and most solemn duty today to call this court to order. My lords, we have convened to adjudicate a matter of incredible gravity. If this act were to be performed by any of the soldiers under my command, the punishment would be summary execution. However, as the defendant is both external to my command and subject to certain… extenuating relationships, I have considered it prudent to convene this bench to deliver a reasoned judgement on the matter. Do any of you have any objections as to the authority of this court martial to try the accused?”

“I didn’t know Gramps could speak all proper-like,” one of the soldiers behind Loran whispered.

“Well, ‘course he can, numbskull. He’s a bloody commissar! They get that fancy Schola education and all! Heard they brick you into a wall there if you can’t do your sums.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Ssh! They’re about to start.”

“We do not have any objection,” the Enginseer crooned in a synth-voice.

“Likewise.” Even this minor remark from the Munitorum Prefect was dutifully scribbled down by one of his assistants.

“Commissar, I feel this is an internal matter of the Adeptus Ministorum.” The priest steepled his fingers on the table. “As someone who has spent more than twenty years with the regiment as a Preacher, I place my sympathies wholeheartedly with the sentiments of my flock, but this will set a bad precedent. The chains of command must be respected. The Most Holy Son of the God-Emperor, Lord Guilliman himself, has made compartmentalization central to the Emperor’s Will. At the very least, the detachment of the Adepta Sororitas present today has been brought here under the requisition of the Inquisitor.” He gave her a small nod. “It should be her who decides the fate of the accused, or, if she so desires, to remand her for inquiry to her Order.”

“Preacher Donox raises a valid point. Does the prosecution have a response?”

For the first time, Loran noticed a little chair to the side of the bench, where the guardsman known as Lukas was sitting. There was, conspicuously, no chair on the other side.

Lukas got to his feet. “Gramps—”

“Ahem.”

“Apologies. Commissar, Preacher Donox’s objection is persuasive but ultimately of little value. The authority to hold a court martial in the field is decided by operational and not administrative control.”

The Prefect coughed as he opened a thick tome, throwing a cloud of dust. “It is true. According to the 373rd Understanding on General Principles signed between the Munitorum and the Inquisitorial Representative on Dorig during the 15th Inter-Segmentum Convention on Improving Inter-Operability…”

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“If the honourable official could be concise?” the Enginseer intoned.

“Yes, well…” The Prefect coughed again, perhaps due to discomfort this time. “If I were to be forced into imprecise summarization, the prosecution is correct, Lord Commissar. The requisition placed by Inquisitor Loran is of an administrative nature. Operational nature had been ceded to the theatre command.”

“If I recall accurately, operational control is currently held by the Skitarii Alpha Zeta-21.” The Enginseer tapped a metal finger on the desk. “He is absent.”

“The Skitarii and their support are breaking camp, my lord,” Lukas explained. “They shall be splitting off from us.”

“Why?”

“New orders from the Omnissiah’s Wrath, or so I am told. Either way, operational command of the present unit then devolves to the Ferrite Guardians, and by extension this court. Hence, I believe that Preacher Donox’s objections ought to be set aside and this trial allowed to continue.”

Donox sighed. “I am satisfied with the prosecution’s explanation of my technical objections, my lords, but I request that my principled objections still be kept in mind.”

“If Preacher Donox does not recant, then this bench must put the admissibility of the issue to vote.” The commissar leaned back in his chair, lines of worry deepening on his face as he stared straight at Loran. “Please state your votes either in favour or against the motion. As the presiding officer, I vote in favour of proceeding with the trial. I cannot disrespect the brotherhood of my men by letting the accused escape on mere technicalities.”

“I am also in favour of proceeding,” the Prefect said. “It is high time these so-called warriors of faith learn what military discipline and propriety mean.”

“I vote against proceeding, because of reasons previously stated,” Donox said coolly.

Gramps looked over to the Techpriest on his left. “Lord Enginseer?”

“I abstain,” he said simply. “I am indifferent to the moralities of the issue. I wish only to hear it on its merits, as Logic and Reason demand.”

Gramps nodded. “Then, with a majority of two to one, one abstaining, the court martial has decided to adopt the issue for hearing. Those who have voted against this may recuse, if they wish, before the prosecution begins.”

“I would like to hear the matter.” Donox stopped fiddling with his Aquila and lay it flat on the table.

“Then I would invite the prosecution to—”

“Hold on.” Loran raised her hand. “I have something to say before that.”

“Inquisitor, I understand your position and the authority it grants you, but I would still respectfully press upon you to respect the decorum of the proceedings.”

“Yes, very sad. Anyway…” She sprung to her feet. “I would just like to know how this so-called ‘court’ is holding this trial in good conscience after so thoroughly violating the dignity and sanctity of a pious Daughter of the God-Emperor.”

The Munitorum Prefect hauled himself to his feet. “Scurrilous allegations! Every rule of martial justice has been followed to the letter in this trial!”

“Really? Is stripping the accused naked before the court also part of these ‘just’ rules?”

“No, but the removal of all dangerous apparel and belongings is. We could not allow her to attend in powered armour, and she refused or neglected to reveal the location of any alternative clothing. Besides, we have provided the accused with enough to preserve her modesty.” He waved his hands dismissively towards the sheet wrapped around her.

“A dirty rag of a blanket to preserve the ‘modesty’ of a pious servant of the Emperor? You couldn’t have arranged a spare uniform or something?”

“Pshaw! We could not possibly eat into our reserves. The quantity of spare uniforms carried on active duty is strictly calculated to optimize tonnage hauling costs!”

“Prefect, surely we can arrange a single shirt and pair of trousers.” Gramps waved his hand vaguely at one of his cadets. “Fetch her something more… suitable. Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Inquisitor, but please, in the future, refrain from—”

“Save it!” Sabrus snapped. It was the first time she had spoken in the trial. Her voice was hoarse and raw. “I won’t wear the colours of anyone who cavorts with the Mutant so openly!”

“The accused has refused clothing.” Despite the synthetic tone, she could swear the Enginseer sounded rather pleased. “Shall we proceed now?”

“Wait.” Loran pulled out her flask and knelt beside Sabrus, holding it to her mouth. “Drink.”

She kept her lips closed, staring back at her with those same feral eyes.

“You’ll need your voice.”

After a tense moment, she sighed and relaxed, accepting the trickle of water down her throat.

“And get some clothes. You deserve them. Don’t let these people snatch anything from you. You did the right thing. You know that. I know that. I’ll get you through this.”

“I had clothes,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I told them I had my robes in my trunk. They brought them and… and…” Without warning, she burst into tears.

“Hey, it’s alright.”

Of course. This girl was still basically a child, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise.

“They burned them in front of me. Burned them. The Canoness herself blessed those robes. They burnt them,” she choked out through the tears.

“It’s going to be alright, Sabrus. Okay? You’ll go home, and you’ll get another one from your Canoness. Alright?” She turned to the bench. “She doesn’t need to be tied up like an animal. You said it yourself. She’s not dangerous anymore.”

Lukas cleared his throat. “She is still a trained soldier, my lords. It might be unwise.”

“It does not justify trussing her up like an animal, does it?” The Preacher leaned forward in his seat. “I would encourage the prosecution, and all witnessing this in general, to remember that the Emperor’s Mercy is as sublime as His Wrath is powerful. The accused may have committed a wrong, and if it is proven, she will be punished for it. But whether the allegations are true or not, I sincerely respect my bench, and all others beside gathered here: show compassion. If we treat each other inhumanely, what meaning is there to being human? Suffering is everyone’s lot, but do not inflict more than what the God-Emperor has intended.”

“Of course, my lord. The prosecution has no objection if the restraints are reduced to what is strictly necessary, of course. We have no intention of being unreasonable or belligerent, unlike some here.”

“How touching,” Loran snapped, gently helping the girl up to her feet. “I am going to help Sister Sabrus choose some clothes from my own quarters, and help her return to this trial in a presentable state. Unless, of course, granting a short reprieve somehow shakes the foundations of Holy Terra itself? Lord Prefect? You’ve got a Concord or an Accord or an Understanding or a Pinky Promise for that tucked away somewhere?”

“Yes, well… No… I…” The bureaucrat spluttered impotently for a few seconds, before settling meekly on, “A brief recess should be harmless.”

Gramps nodded. “The court will adjourn for a few minutes.”

“Bax! Bax! Where the feth are you?”

“Here, Inquisitor.”

“Fuck! How do you always show up behind me?”

“You know how.”

“Well, whatever. Take this poor girl to the hab, get her a bite to eat and something to wear. I’ll be along soon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hoisted Sabrus up with all the hostile tenderness of a soldier and marched her off.

Loran took the opportunity to stomp over to the bench, which was dispersing into conversations amongst the crowd. “Commissar, I can take the jokes. I can take the jibes. But this is taking it too far.”

The old man sighed. “Inquisitor Loran, I warned you earlier about the chain of command. This is my duty. This is my regiment. This trial will happen.”

“I’m not talking about the fething trial, you desiccated fish!” she hissed, grabbing his arm and hauling him away from a knot of guardsmen. “Fucking with a sister’s robes? Stripping her naked? Not giving her water? What the fuck?”

“They’re angry, Loran. I can’t personally babysit thousands of guardsmen, can I? I’ll ask the other commissars to keep a closer watch, but it’s not my fault that she didn’t think to bring any clothes.”

“Do you really believe a member of the Adepta Sororitas would be caught dead without clothes?”

He frowned. “What are you implying?”

“Figure it the fuck out. You’re supposed to be smart, aren’t you?” She stomped off in the direction of her quarters.

Bax was waiting for her in the meeting room, leaning against a low table. “I’ve put her up in the bedroom with some of last night’s food.”

“Nothing fresh?”

“Nothing cooked. The cooks were all required for the new arrivals.”

“No wonder I can’t get a decent meal. She flopped onto the table beside him. “Got a light?”

He silently handed her a stick of Iho.

“This armour is starting to chafe in all the wrong places.” She shimmied a little to relieve an especially troublesome spot of pressure and lit the Iho-stick, sending thick fumes into the ventilation system.

“Why don’t you take it off for a while? As long as we’re in the camp, you don’t need microclimate generators. It could do with some touch-ups.”

“With what I’m planning, there’s no guarantee when someone starts shooting.” She took a deep drag, watching the smoke as it drifted into nothingness. “Are you still angry? About what I said before?”

“It doesn’t matter. I serve you, and you only. Without question.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

He sighed. “Yes. Yes, I’m angry. But I understand why you thought this would be a good idea.”

“But it isn’t.”

“No. Not by a long shot. Another place, another time, maybe. But you won’t fool the Archmagos for long. He’s experienced, deadly, and he’s got a team of the best of the best of the fucking best. They’ll find you, sooner or later. That’s why your father worked so often with them. When they want something, they get it.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“Cover up the tracks, hopefully. Make them point somewhere else. A scapegoat.”

“Hmm…” Another puff of smoke.

“I must say, though. You’re not as big of an idiot as I thought when you first came here. That con you’re pulling out there? Conscientious objector? Not half-bad. Your old man never could pull off the whole bleeding-heart thing.”

“Gotta act a bit dumb. Gets them to drop their guard.” She flicked the ashes onto the carpet. “Basics.”

“You don’t give a crap about her, do you?” He nodded at the bedroom.

“I don’t give a crap about anyone. Especially not her. She’s a dumb bitch who let ideology get in her own way. But I can’t let her die.”

“Good.” Bax nodded. “And here I thought you were getting sentimental on me.”

“It is a bit much though, isn’t it? What they’re doing?”

“The trial?”

“No. All this… torture.”

“I suppose. I suppose.”

“You would’ve done the same.”

“If someone shot my friend in the back? I’d pull their balls out and shove them in their mouth.”

“You men. Always so touchy about your ‘brothers’ and ‘friends’. House Goliath was a lot like that, you know, back on Necromunda. It was always fun playing pranks on them.”

“You ever feel like going back?”

“To the worst underhive the galaxy has ever seen, where every second spent outside is asking to get knifed by some mutant thug, and every second spent inside is asking to get gassed by some noble’s half-baked population control scheme?” She cackled and took another drag. “All the damn time.”

Outside, a few shouts rose above the din.

“Who was on guard duty? Who was on guard duty for the accused? Answer me, swine!”

“Where are they? Tell me!”

“Looks like the lights finally went off in the old man’s head.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know why I did that. I didn’t need to.”

“Don’t get too callous, Beatrice. That’s how you end up like Eisenhorn. Anyway, I did that digging around you asked me to. I found out what exactly the Tally is.”

“Well?” She stubbed the Iho-stick on the expensive wood of the table, leaving a burn mark. She always felt those added character to furniture, but her housekeeper remained suitably unconvinced.

“Turns out, the Guardians are technically Sanctus Ferrum property.”

“Slavery?”

“More like indentured. They’ve got service contracts inked out with the Mechanicus administration, by which they get trained, deputed to the Munitorum, and if they survive for a few decades, retired back to their homes. The Tally is, well… technically it’s just this command seal of sorts with a data-cube inside that contains a record of every service contract deputed to the particular regiment. But it’s more than that in the Ferrite Guardians’ culture. The Tally is literally the authority to command the regiment. The Munitorum calls their leader Colonel, but they call him the Master of the Tally.”

“And what about this Keeper thing?”

“Well, the Master technically doesn’t keep the Tally on himself. It’s a safety measure, since their commanding officers fight on the front so often. The person whose custody they leave it in is called the Keeper of the Tally. He’s supposed to be someone the Master trusts unconditionally. If the Master dies, goes missing, or otherwise gets indisposed, the Keeper takes over as the regiment’s commander.”

She sighed. “Well, this Anders guy certainly fits the bill for Sand.”

“From what I hear, he’s twice as loyal as a canid and about ten thousand times more dangerous.”

“Can’t we just steal the Tally, while he’s conked out?”

Bax shook his head. “It’s not a command wafer for a robot. The Tally’s authority is spiritual. You have to prove you’re entitled to bear it.”

“How?”

“Well, the Master has to appoint you the Keeper in his absence.”

“Wow.” She threw up her hands. “Let me just go find Sand’s broken corpse somewhere in the darkness down there and get his signature. Be right back.”

Bax shrugged. “You asked for information, not a plan.”

“So you have a plan?”

“Yep. Let’s get out of here. This is way above our pay grade.”

“Very encouraging, thank you, sergeant.” She sighed and rubbed her temples.

“The Master has to appoint… The Master… The Master… Has to appoint the Keeper… There’s got to be something we can do…”

A small cough distracted her. Sabrus was standing in the doorway, wearing one of her formal dresses for military occasions. The tunic and trousers were too big and ill-fitted to her physique, but there was certainly a boyish charm, buried deep, deep below.

“Sorry, Inquisitor, this was all I could find.”

“Oh, you should have called me, darling.” She hopped down from the table, immediately switching gears. “We need to get those old geezers out there convinced, not, well… unconvinced.”

Sabrus blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“Um, well… Back on old Terra, there was a story of a girl named Phyrne, who, um… Well, let’s just say that during a trial, you should enhance your… innocence.”

Suddenly, something crossed her mind. “Bax… I have an idea.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A good one?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get. What do you have in mind?”

She grabbed the girl by the shoulders. “Listen, Sabrus. We can save you, but you need to do exactly as I say. I saw you don’t have a defence. Why? Didn’t they give you one?”

“They offered.” Her eyes hardened. “I refused. I don’t trust any of them.”

“Smart girl. Bax, call back to the ship. I need that guy here, double time.”

“What guy?”

“You know, that one. The one that got me out of that brothel on Ophelia VII.”

Sabrus blinked. “There are brothels on Ophelia VII?”

“There are now, ever since this guy managed to find a loophole in the Cardinal’s decree forbidding it. They even named it after him, didn’t they?”

Bax nodded. “I’ll get the lawyer. What then?”

“Just ask him to drag this on as far as possible. I’ll be in the audience, don’t worry. Sabrus, when I give you the signal, get a recess. I don’t care how. Have a nervous breakdown, swoon, shit yourself. The court should break. Then, come find me.”

“To do what?”

“I’ll get my lawyer to fill you in during the trial. But you need to get that recess. Got it?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now run back in. You need to change.”

Bax waited until she was gone. “I’m not liking the sound of this.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard the half of it. Get Karina in here, and a few more of them if you can find any. Bring their robes. We’ll need some adjustments.”

“Oh, by the God-Emperor. Surely you aren’t considering a…”

“A distraction. Yep.”

“Yikes.” Bax shook his head, breaking into a smirk. “Your father would be proud of you, you know. He would whip you senseless for thinking about this, but he would be proud.”

Her smile wavered, just for a moment. “He was fun, wasn’t he?”

“Eh, in his own way.”

“Hmm… Sabrus, darling, can you get into the cupboard on the right? Look for the drawer in the back. Way, way back…”