Eisenhorn Omnibus - страница 40
The idea of sitting tight and waiting for more troopers to arrive didn't especially appeal.
'Deserters, sir/ Procurator Olm Madorthene told me, two hours later. He was a grizzled, narrow man with cropped grey hair and an old augmetic implant down the side of his neck under his left ear. He wore the starched white, high collared jacket, red gloves, pressed black jodhpurs and high patent leather boots of the Battlefleet Disciplinary Detachment. Madorthene had been courteous from the moment he came aboard, saluting me and tucking his gold-braided white crowned cap under his arm respectfully. His detachment of troopers were dressed and equipped identically to the ones that had boarded the Essene to kill us, but from the moment of their arrival I noted their greater discipline and tight order.
'Deserters?'
Madorthene seemed uneasy. He clearly disliked entanglements with an inquisitor.
'From the guard levies. You are aware a founding is presently under way on Gudran. By order of the Lord Militant Commander, seven hundred
and fifty thousand men are being inducted into the Imperial Guard to form the 50th Gudranite Rifles. Such is the size of the founding, and the fact that this is notably the fiftieth regiment assembled from this illustrious world, that a planet-wide celebration and associated ceremonial military events are taking place.'
'And these men deserted?'
Madorthene delicately drew me to one side as his troopers carried the corpses of the insurgents from the vicinity of the airgate and bagged them. I had set Betancore to watch over them.
'We have had trouble/ he confided quietly. 'The muster was originally to have been half a million, but the Lord Militant Commander increased the figure a week prior to the founding – he is preparing for a crusade into the Ophidian sub-sector – and, well, many found themselves conscripted with little notice. Between you and me, the great festivities are partly an attempt to draw attention from the matter. There's been some rioting in barracks at the founding area, and desertion. It's been busy for us.'
'I can well imagine. You know for certain these men are deserters from the guard?'
He nodded and handed me a data-slate. On it was a list of twelve names, linked to file biographies and blurry holo portraits.
'They absconded from Founding Barrack 74 outside Dorsay yesterday, took uniforms and weapons from the bursary at the orbital port and stole a pinnace. No one thought to challenge a squad of naval security troopers.'
'And no one questioned their lack of credentials and flight codes?'
'Regrettably, the pinnace had been pre-loaded with a course plan and transponder codes to take it into the fleet anchorage. They would have been discovered long since had that not been the case. They were clearly looking for a non-military starship like this.'
'These are regular draftees? Infantrymen?'
"Yes.'
'Who could fly a pinnace?'
'The ringleader,' he referred back to the slate, 'one Jonno Lingaart, was a qualified orbital pilot. Worked on the ferries. As I said, a regrettable combination of events.'
I wasn't going to let this go. Madorthene wasn't lying, I was certain of that. But the information he was presenting me with was full of gaps and inconsistencies.
What about the demand for the inspection?'
That came from the pinnace itself. Entirely unofficial. They spotted your ship and improvised. We have sourced the inspection demand to the pinnace's vox-log.'
'No/1 said. He took a step backwards, alert to the anger that was growing in me.
'Sir?'
'I have checked the Essene's communication log. It doesn't tell me the origin of the signals, but it shows the inspection demand came via astro-pathic link, not vox. The pinnace had no astropath/
