Fear And Fire Part 10

With a heavy clank, the gantry leading to the main walkway locked into place and the library platform shuddered slightly. Verity looked up to see another logistoras picking his way down towards her. This one was of a lower rank than the adept who had escorted her into the hall, a mere quillan with less than a dozen service b.u.t.tons. The clerk-priest bowed and pointed a finger at the scattered papers. He seemed rather distressed that the files were displayed in so imprecise a manner.

'I need to revise,' he hissed. 'You have to let me pro-ceed.

'Revise what?'

The logistoras ambled forward on roller-ball feet and took up the first file that came to hand. Paper looped from a dispenser reel at his hip, a device fash-ioned to look like a closed book. He shot Verity a glance.

'Certification. After the attack, there's been a lot to do.' A grey tongue drooped from his lips and he licked the paper with it. With a swift motion, the quil-lan pasted the label to the file and folded it away. He began to repeat the procedure.

Verity took the altered file and studied it. The new addition was a finger's length of black-bordered ticket bearing a date, time and identifier code. In red letters, one word stood out like a livid brand. Deceased.

'What is going on?' Verity demanded, turning on the logistoras.

He blinked and recoiled a little. The quillan seemed nervous of her. 'Last night? The attack?' He lickedanother label and stuck it on Priser's file card. 'Some of the rockets fired struck the reformatory. Many prisoners were killed in the conflagration that ensued. The clerk paused and gestured around at the files with a metal hand, steel pen nibs for fin-gers. 'All these men are dead. The files must be revised to reflect the new truth.

Verity let the logistoras complete his work without interruption. The adept kept stealing sidelong glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking at him, and finally she blew out a breath. 'Do you have something to say to me?'

Another owlish blink. 'I... I know you. Your ident crossed my work queue recently, Sister Verity. I know of your involvement in the Vaun investiga-tion. Something in the logistoras's tone gave her pause.

'Yes. she said carefully. 'I am gathering information on the witch to aide in his capture. The clerk-priest paused, his task at an end. 'I have never been commissioned to engage in a criminal investigation. There was an air of wistful hope in his voice. 'My works are purely administrational. I often wonder what it would be like to-' Verily took a chance. 'Perhaps you might a.s.sist me now?' The quillan froze. 'It would be my honour. How might I be of help, Sister?'

The Hospitaller's mind whirled. The question danced on her lips. 'I... I want to see the files you have on Torris Vaun.

That datum is restricted. The logistoras eyed her. 'But should I a.s.sume you have the requisite sanction from the office of the lord deacon?'

Sister Verity kept all emotion from her face, afraid of giving it away with a simple tell but then the clerk-priests were a sheltered lot not often given to contact with other humans, and she doubted he would be able to spot a lie on her lips. You may a.s.sume that. she told him.

The quillan bowed and led her deeper into the librarium.

They descended through a series of hatches into an iron cupola, which in turn crossed between the slow-turning cogs to another platform, filled with books that were chained to their racks. The logistoras extruded a key mechanism from his palm and granted them entrance. He glanced over his hunched shoulder at Verity.

'It occurs to me, I have not given you my ident.i.ty. I am Quillan Cla.s.s Four Unshir, cutter of paper and copy maker. He bowed a little. 'Pardon me if I seem forward, but if you could see your way to highlight my co-operation in this matter to my savant senioris-'

She threw him a quick, fake smile. 'Of course. Your a.s.sistance will be rewarded. Verity disliked lying, even to a demi-human such as Unshir, but she had com-mitted herself now. 'Emperor forgive me,' she whispered. This I do in Your name.

The quillan glanced at her. 'Did you address me, Sister?' 'No. she snapped, a litde too quickly. Vaun's records. Show them to me.' He bowed. 'Of course.'

Unshir used the keys to unlock a tome sheathed in light-absorbing obsidian, touching a ring of code-spots on the cover to open it. He whispered something that sounded like birdsong into a grille on the book's spine and it obediently opened by itself, pages moving on armatures in a blur. With a snap, the book laid itself flat in Unshir's hands and he turned, presenting it to her. The pages are made of a psychoactive papyrus,' he said reverently. 'Don't touch them with naked skin.'

Verity nodded and began to read. These were the books of the t.i.the kept to record the comings and goings of the Adeptus Telepathica in the Neva sys-tem. Whenever a person was found bearing the stigma of a psyker, their name was entered here along with a preliminary record of the abilities they exhibited. In time, when the Black Ships came to claim them, the witchkin would be transferred from the deep cells in Neva's Inquisitorial dungeons to the mysterious vessels, never to be seen again.

And there was Torris Vaun's name. The records were sketchy: apparently sold into slavery as a child, the youth's psychic talents had come to the atten-tion of the Ecclesiarchy's agents - and tellingly, Viktor LaHayn himself, at the time a senior confes-sor. There were several notes in florid prose on the matter of Vaun's unholy capabilities. He was seen to have committed acts of wilful telepathy, shriving and extreme feats of pyrokene mastery. Verity thought of the fire that burnt in the witch's eyes and gave an involuntary shudder.

'As you can see, the files remain intact. Unshir nodded to himself. 'Are you satisfied?'

The Hospitaller ignored him. She knew what to look for now, and kept searching the tight scrawl of luminous text for discrepancies. The dates...' Verity said at length, marshalling her thoughts aloud. Thesequence is incorrect.

The logistoras flinched as if she had struck him. 'You are mistaken. We care for these doc.u.ments as if they were the words of the G.o.d-Emperor Himself. Nothing is wrong.

Vaun's detection and capture. There is a gap here, a missing datum.

'Impossible. Unshir's pale face flushed red.

The file jumps from the date he was captured to the notation of his escape from Neva. Where was he during the intervening time? Where was he held? The page says nothing.

You are misreading it. the clerk-priest exclaimed, suddenly irritated.

'See for yourself.

'No. Unshir shivered. 'It is forbidden for us to look upon the pages that we write and protect. Our cognitive functions are compartmentalised so that we cannot understand the words which we tran-scribe.

'There must be other records of Vaun. she demanded. Where are they?'

There are no others. he spluttered, as if the very idea of information residing anywhere but within these walls was a joke. But in the next instant, the logistoras's face clouded. 'Wait. If the lord deacon sent you on an errand, why would you say such a thing? Is this some sort of test? Or perhaps not?'

'I...' Caught unawares, Verity's fragile cloak of deception disintegrated with a single look. 'No, I was sent-'

At last he saw the lie on her face. 'Charlatan. You have misinformed me!' Unshir spat the words like a curse. 'You have no right to be here.' Anger and then terror crossed the priest's face as he realised that it was his inattention that had allowed Verity to gain access where she was not meant to. 'Alarm. Alarm!' he called, lurching away towards a control grille on one of the support girders.

From above, the Sororitas heard the keening hum of servo-skulls swooping down from the heights. The quillan's pen-nib fingertips scratched at the security buzzer panel, but then his head ripped open with a noise like tearing cloth and the clatter-ing clerk fell dead to the deck.

Verity thought she saw the shape of something dark moving in among the gantries overhead. Somewhere up there, fizzing sparks of colour cast brief flashes as a trio of servo-skulls were pierced with razored metal darts. The Hospitaller ran, her heart hammering against her chest.

The shadow was not in the business of hunting, the a.s.sa.s.sin did not enjoy the thrill of the chase, the hot rush of pursuit as a target fled in fear of its life. Rather, the shadow's way was one of stealth. The killer strove never to race after a mark, but instead be there when the target was least suspecting, to plant a silent dart in their soft flesh and have them perish never knowing where death had come from. But the Sister Hospitaller had disrupted that plan by deviating from ascribed behaviour patterns. It was unexpected that the woman took the bold step of lying to the hapless quillan, and even more so that she would dare to delve into sealed church records. If there had been an iota of uncertainty that Verity's death was required, it was with that action that she removed any doubt in the a.s.sa.s.sin's mind.

But then the logistoras buffoon had over-reacted and his murder became necessary, then too the elimination of the servo-skull scouts before they could relay any alarm to the tech-guards on the upper tiers.

The gloom of the librarium was rendered bright by the preysight mechanism within the sealed helm the shadow wore. Ahead, the a.s.sa.s.sin saw the heat blob that was Sister Verity lurching from one canyon of books to another, directionless and terri-fied. A frown formed behind the faceplate. In her panic, it was making it impossible to draw a bead on the woman, so that a fatal shot might be taken. This was not acceptable.

The killer surveyed the library platform and found a hod of heavy books suspended over one of the wide metal shelves. There were volumes covering matters of decrepit old history, awaiting return to their rightful place by some minor functionary like the late Unshir. With care, the shadow aimed at the cable holding the book carriage up and shot it away.

Huge black slabs of the gloom above her detached from the darkness and crashed down around Verity, the heavy books striking the mesh decking about her with ringing impacts. One of the tomes slammed into her and sent the woman sprawling. Verity screamed, colliding with the bookshelves and spinning about. The blow knocked the wind from her lungs and she felt her precious data-slate fall from her fingers. She heard a smash of broken plas-tics as another weighty volume landed squarely on the little device and crushed it into fragments.

The carriage's load gone, the frame itself dropped from the cable overhead and fell, tumbling end over end.

Verity tried to get away, but the hems of her robe snarled about her feet and she came to her knees. The carriage came down on her, trapping her legs beneath it.

Through the veil of preysight, Sister Verity's cry of pain was a bloom of hot orange air in the cool, dry voids of the librarium. The a.s.sa.s.sin was aware of confusion and noise from the other gantries in the hall. Theclerk-priests were becoming aware that something was amiss, the colours of their bodies moving and swarming closer. There was little time. The killing of the Hospitaller had to be now.

Careful, deft fingers dialled the barrel of the ghost pistol to maximum dilation and the shadow racked a dart into the breech. A sensor pit on the tip of the gun relayed information to the preysight, highlight-ing the shape of organs inside Verity's shuddering frame. There was the throbbing orb of her heart, nes-tled beneath the crosshairs. The a.s.sa.s.sin's finger tightened on the trigger.

She fired blindly.

From the connecting gantry, Miriya had seen the book hod fall. She had heard the death scream of Unshir and the pops of detonation as the servo-skulls were obliterated. Her plasma pistol was singing in her hand and she broke into a run, disci-plined muscle-memory taking over. In the shade of the towering bookcases she caught a glimpse of flap-ping robes as Verity fell. The Sister's cry was full of fear.

Miriya fired, releasing a salvo of quick energy bolts up into the steel rafters. She could not see the attacker, but the Celestian's mind operated on an instinctual, instantaneous level. There was some part of her consciousness calculating angles and likely points of attack, aiming at the places where she her-self might have hidden in order to kill the girl.

And there For a fraction of a second, backlit by a streak of sun-bright gaseous plasma, a man-shape recoiling in the girders.

The black-suited figure switched targets and shot back at the Batde Sister. Miriya threw herself across the deck in a tuck-and-roll as darts, invisible in the gloom, smashed into supports or punched holes in the covers of rare ma.n.u.scripts.

Her opponent moved and fired again. The accu-racy of the near-hits was punishing, forcing her on the defensive, and it was instantly clear to Miriya that the a.s.sa.s.sin possessed some form of enhanced senses.

'Preysight,' she reasoned, shaking off her cloak to gain greater freedom of movement. The woman knew of the arcane technology that rendered night into day - the Sabbat helmets of the Adeptus Soror-itas had similar capacity - but she also understood its limitations. Miriya aimed low, not at the place where the shadowy killer was lurking, but at the racks of ancient papers beneath. The plasma gun shrieked and cast flares of brilliant white light into the aged, dry tomes. The conflagration was instant, sending a sheet of fire up towards the rafters.

A scream pealed through the air, and there atop the racks was the a.s.sa.s.sin, framed by orange flames, clutching at its face. Miriya had only a moment. The machine-spirits of the librarium would not stand to let a fire rage for more than a second or two, lest it spread across the entire complex. There were net-works of pipes that delivered inert, suffocating gases to such outbreaks - if the flames died, then so would she and Verity.

The Battle Sister's weapon howled.

A fist of gaseous matter as hot as the core of a star ripped into the shadow's left arm, just above the elbow.

Everything below the joint exploded from the touch of the incredible heat, and the hydrostatic shock of boiling blood sent a hammer blow racing through the killer's body. The a.s.sa.s.sin tumbled from the bookcases, falling to the decks through wreaths of fire-r.e.t.a.r.dant mist.

Plasma weapons were designed not to target unar-moured forms like the shadow, but to melt their way through ceramite or hull metal. Used on flesh, they were a blowtorch turned upon wax. The pain of the hit was of such intensity that the killer's heart was stopped by it, and in turn, this factor triggered the compact denial charge of hexogen that was implanted beneath the shadow's ribcage. The a.s.sas-sin's patron was not in the business of letting discarded tools fall into the wrong hands.

With a wet crack, the shadow blew apart in mid-air.

Flecks of burnt matter, some of it flesh, some unidentifiable, scattered down around them in a macabre rain.

Disgust churned in Miriya's gullet as she batted the burning remains from her cloak. Nearby, Verity extracted herself from beneath the fallen book carriage, favouring her leg. She eyed the black scorch mark, waving away the acrid puffs of extinguisher gas. Nothing recognisable as human remained of the a.s.sa.s.sin.

Miriya saw the glitter of gla.s.s and holstered her gun. There, lost to the shadow when she had taken her kill, was the murderer's arcane weapon. The Bat-tle Sister picked it up and turned it over in her gauntleted hands, running a practiced eye over the deadly lines of the pistol. 'Mark me, what is this?' Her hand found the knurled porcelain b.u.t.t and the gun fell into her grip by reflex. Through the clear ammunition store drum she could see the wicked barbs of the dart loads.

'You saved my life. managed Verity.

Thank the Emperor for placing me here where I was needed most. said Miriya. "You have been in herefor the better part of a day. I was concerned and so I came to find you. Had I not...'

Vaun. He must have known. husked Verity, her throat raw from the vapours of the dead fire. 'Wanted to keep me from finding out...'

Miriya's eyes never left the gun. 'He had ample chance to murder you in the Lunar Cathedral.

'What are you saying?' The Hospitaller's voice was high with emotion.

'I've never seen the like of this before. I do not think that a corsair like Vaun would be able to field a weapon and an agent such as this. She weighed the weapon in her hand, gingerly running her thumb over the setting studs. The value of this pistol alone could probably buy him the loyalty of a dozen men...'

Then who-' Verity's words were cut off by a fizzing spit of noise from the ghost pistol's breech. Suddenly the gun went red hot, the structure of it warping and distending.

'Get down!' Miriya drew back her arm and threw the pistol away into the dark with all her might. She heard it clatter against metal walls then in the next moment there was a crash of detonation. The Battle Sister felt, rather than heard, one of the freed darts streak past her face to embed itself in a rack of books. Suspicion sent a cold sensation crawling over her skin. Such an a.s.sa.s.sin, such weaponry was far beyond the capabilities of a renegade like Vaun. Only someone with influence, with connections that stretched all over Neva and beyond, could have sent the shadow to silence the Hospitaller.

Miriya glanced up and unconsciously traced the silver fleur-de-lys between her armoured b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

'This is outrageous!' Venik's voice was almost a scream, his tirade roaring about the Canoness's chambers.

'I do not know where to begin with this litany of misdeeds and insubordination!' He whirled about, his red cloak flaring, to stab a finger at Miriya and Verity. The Hospitaller's head was bowed, but the Battle Sister did little to show any contrition before the furious dean. This presump-tuous wench dares to go against my explicit orders, against the word of the lord deacon and lie her way into the librarium - and then your Celestian com-mits an act of horrific vandalism. Hundreds of Neva's most precious ma.n.u.scripts, the works of a thousand dedicated lexmechanics turned to ashes!' Standing at the side of Galatea's wide desk, Sister Reiko cleared her throat. The term "precious" is an interesting choice of words, Dean Venik. I under-stand that the papers destroyed were those relating to crop rotations on the Pirin island chain. Consid-ering that archipelago sank into the ocean during the thirty-fourth millennium, one might ask why they might be considered of more value than the life of Sister Verity.

The Sister Superior discharged a weapon inside a holy shrine of the Adeptus Ministorum.

Miriya fixed him with a hard stare. 'Indeed I did, in the defence of a fellow Sororitas, against an intruder who had already murdered an innocent savant. An intruder whom the librarium's guardians failed to detect or apprehend.

Canoness Galatea steepled her fingers and said nothing, content to watch the interplay with a neu-tral, measuring expression.

Venik paused, gathering himself. Very well. Then, for the sake of argument, let us dismiss the matter of the books and your wanton gunplay, and consider this errant Hospitaller. He took a step closer to Verity. 'Did I not say to you in no uncertain terms that the enforcers investigation precluded the need for further enquiry?

Were my words unclear? Or are the Sisters of the Order of Serenity given to ignoring the commands of their superiors?' The dean was almost shouting again.

Galatea caught Miriya's eye, and the Battle Sister felt the Canoness searching her soul with that level, unflinching stare. At length, she spoke. Verity was act-ing under my command.

Venik spun to face the older woman, his face tight with anger. 'What did you say?'

'I ordered Verity to proceed to the librarium, despite your words to her. She was there on my authority.

Unseen by the dean, Verity and Miriya exchanged glances. Galatea had known nothing of the Hospi-taller's venture into the hall of records until after the commotion there. She is vouching for us...

'Did you?' Venik seemed unconvinced. 'Yet you did not consider informing my office of that fact?'

Galatea gave an off-hand wave. 'I have many duties to attend to in the convent, my honoured dean. I apologise for giving the matter a lower priority.

Venik glared at Miriya. If he knew the Canoness was providing a way out for the Sisters, there was no way he could challenge her on it. The ranks they held in the church hierarchy were roughly a.n.a.lo-gous, with neither holding seniority over the other. 'So be it. I hope then, after all that has transpired, that Sister Verity's impromptu venture yielded some-thing of value. Speak, girl. he snapped. Tell us what great revelation you found among the burning books and corpses.

With a tremor in her voice, Verity explained the datum she had uncovered in the remunery files and the correlation between the mutineers on the Mercu-tio. Venik listened with a sneer on his lips, but Galatea was evaluating every word, and Reiko fol-lowed with swift entries on her data-slate.This is all you have? Malfunctioning shuttles and unspent money?' snapped Venik. 'Circ.u.mstantial hearsay, nothing more.

'Men have been put to the sword for less. Miriya said darkly.

The city-state of Metis is under the governance of Baron Holt Sherring,' noted Sister Reiko. The baron's considerable fortune comes from his fam-ily's holdings in Neva's transport and shipping guilds. It was a vessel under Sherring's livery that was diverted on that day.

Galatea nodded. 'And let us not forget, the good baron is a major shareholder in the consortium that controls the orbital commerce station where the witch made his escape.

Venik's mood changed abruptly. 'You... You are suggesting that a member of Neva's aristocrat caste aided and abetted a known criminal? That he some-how engineered the escape of Torris Vaun?' He snorted.

These are serious charges.'

'How hard would it be to coerce members of a transport crew or commerce station staff, especially if the pressure came from a n.o.ble?' Galatea replied. 'It is well known that Baron Sherring is a ruthless and ambitious man. His numerous contentions with the planetary governor are a matter of record.

'It is my belief that the mutineers were some-how... conditioned by an unknown agency while in Metis.

said Verity. 'I would suggest some form of post-hypnotic suggestion, perhaps keyed to a cer-tain event or stimulus that would trigger a programmed set of behaviour. Such things are med-ically possible with the correct devices.

Galatea came to her feet. 'Reiko, prepare my per-sonal Immolator. Dean Venik, you will accompany me to a meeting with the lord deacon. I will demand a warrant to prepare a pogrom against Sherring. If the criminal Vaun has gone to ground in Metis-'

The heavy door to the chambers burst open to admit Sister Ca.s.sandra. The woman was flushed with effort.

'Canoness. Forgive my intrusion.

'I left orders not to be disturbed.

Ca.s.sandra nodded. 'Indeed, but matters require your immediate attention. A communique from Lord LaHayn has arrived... There is an incident in Metis...'

'Metis?' Venik repeated, shooting a look at Verily. 'Explain!'