Konrad Molitor, my brother inquisitor, was standing before me, smiling. His three hooded servants were at his side.
'Such valour, Gregor. Such dedication. I thought you'd be the one to find the prize/
I tried to answer, but my mouth refused to obey me. Spittle bubbled between my clenched teeth.
Molitor looked around at his cowled companions. 'Let him speak/ he said.
The psychic constraints on my voice slackened. Speech was still an effort. W-what are you d-doing, Molitor?'
'Recovering the priceless Necroteuch, of course. We really, really can't have you destroying another copy now, can we?'
'W-we?'
There are many who believe mankind will benefit more from the study of this artefact than from its destruction. I have come to safeguard those interests/
'R-rorken will n-never allow… y-you will b-burn for-'
'My estimable Lord Brother Rorken will never know. Feel how this place quakes. See how the roof splinters and collapses? Ten minutes ago, I signalled to the fleet that the primary objective was achieved. I gave the code for Sanction Extremis. They believe the Necroteuch had been found and safely disposed of. Our forces are withdrawing, with all haste. The batteries of the fleet have begun to level these xenos places. No one will know that the divine Necroteuch has been carried off safely. Not a shred of evidence will survive the bombardment. Not a shred of evidence… nor any voice of dissent/
His yellow-pupilled eyes regarded me. 'How brave of you to give your life in the assault on 56-Izar. Your name will be remembered on the roll of honour. I assure you, I'll see to that myself/
'B-b-b-bastard…' I fought with my mind to break free, but it was impossible. This was not Molitor's hold on me. One of his retainers, or all three in concert, supremely powerful.
'Fetch it for me/ Molitor said to one of his men, gesturing to the Necroteuch with a wave of his checked sleeve. We would be well to leave promptly/
The hammering bombardment was now a perpetual shaking roar. The robed figure slid forward and took down the blue octahedron, cupping it
in elegant, long-nailed fingers. He seemed to study it, and looked round at Molitor.
'It is useless/ he said.
'What?'
'Unreadable. Locked within an impenetrable xenos language code.'
Molitor stammered. 'No! Impossible! Break the code!'
'Would that I could. It is beyond even my ability'
'There must be a means of translation!'
The hooded man holding the Necroteuch looked round at me.
'He has a primer. The only primer. He's trying not to think about it, but I can see it in his mind. Look in his coat pocket.'
The smile returned to Molitor's face. He came close to me, reaching out a hand towards my coat. 'Devious to the last, Gregor. You whoreson wretch.'
A las-round blew his hand off at the wrist.
Molitor screamed and stumbled back, clutching his smoking stump.
Bequin, her face pursed grimly, her las-carbine at her shoulder and aimed at his heart, appeared beside me.
'Kill them! Kill them!' Molitor screamed. I felt the immediate pressure of the psychic vice tightening to finish me. Then I reeled away, freed. The psychic blank of Bequin's untouchable nature shielded me now she was at my side. The servant holding the Necroteuch took a step backwards in surprise.
Molitor, frantic with pain and anger, saw that his powerful psychic was thwarted somehow and yelled 'Albaara! T'harth!'
Code words. Trigger words. The pair of servants who had remained by his side sprang forward, their robes shredding away.
Arco-flagellants. Heretics reprogrammed and rebuilt with augmetics and bionics to serve as murderous slaves. The trigger words woke them from their calming states of bliss and plunged them into maniacal rages.
Out of their robes, they were foul, hunched things, encrusted with crude surgical implants and sacred charms. Their hands were lashing clutches of electrowhips, their eyes dull, bulbous orbits under the rims of the tarnished pacifier helmets bolted to their skulls.
Midas, Bequin and I fired our weapons together, raking them with punishment as they charged forward. The damage they suffered was immense, but still they came on, their bodies pumped with intoxicating adrenal fluid, pain-blockers and frenzy-inducing chemical stimulants. They didn't feel what we were doing to them.
