Marshal Tzara produced a data-slate from her belt pouch. She took a last, sneering look around the room.
‘The Astra Militarum has protocols,’ she remarked. ‘I fear they are being forgotten. There is a common line trooper here.’
She glanced at Beltayn, who suddenly found his notes fascinating.
‘And as for her,’ Tzara added, nodding in Merity’s direction. ‘I did not realise that the Guard had become a family business.’
‘I was asked to attend,’ Merity replied before Biota could answer.
‘By your father,’ said Tzara. ‘The Guard operates through excellence. Training, experience, and hard-won seniority. Not nepotism.’
Merity felt her cheeks flush hot.
‘I’m sure it does, ma’am,’ she replied. ‘I’m sure that’s why the third, ninth and fourteenth companies of the Keyzon host are commanded by your sons.’
Tzara blinked. Her mouth formed a sharp, pursed, horizontal line.
‘Ballsy,’ she remarked, and turned back to Biota.
Biota had removed his spectacles and was looking at Merity with a frown.
‘We reviewed the disposition of the Keyzon about four hours ago,’ he said. ‘You remembered that detail?’
‘I’m trying to remember everything I can, sir,’ said Merity. ‘So there’s some point in me being here.’
Biota raised his eyebrows, put his spectacles back on and turned back to the table.
‘Right, let’s continue,’ he said. ‘Marshal, kindly run us through–’
There was another knock at the chamber door.
‘If that’s Lugo, he’s an hour early,’ snapped Biota.
Relf answered the door. ‘It’s a commissar,’ she reported stiffly. ‘Requesting my lady Chass.’
‘I’ll step out so you can carry on,’ said Merity, getting up. She went to the door as Tzara began her report.
It was Fazekiel.
Merity stepped into the hallway. Relf followed.
‘No need,’ Merity said.
‘I’ll say what’s needed,’ Relf replied. She closed the door behind them, then stood with her back to it, gazing at the wall opposite.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ said Fazekiel. ‘I see you’re busy.’
‘How can I help?’
‘I’m still conducting the investigation. I want to re-interview everybody involved. Blenner, Meryn, you. Just go over it again.’
‘There’s nothing much I can add that you don’t already have,’ Merity replied. ‘I was unconscious during the… the murders.’
‘Well,’ said Fazekiel, ‘your memory might throw up something, even if it doesn’t seem pertinent to you.’
‘Her memory’s very good, it seems,’ said Relf from behind them.
‘I don’t know, commissar,’ said Merity.
‘Well, think about it,’ said Fazekiel. ‘I’m based in the undercroft with the regiment billet. If you think of anything, come and find me. Anything at all, all right?’
Merity nodded.
‘And maybe tomorrow, when you’re not tied up, we can run another interview just for the record.’
‘Of course,’ said Merity.
Fazekiel nodded.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ she said. ‘I won’t keep you.’
An air battle was underway to the south. Most of it was hidden by the low cloud cover of the rainstorm, but they could hear the blow-torch growl of thrusters and odd pops and crackles. Occasionally, a white dart would become visible, rolling and swooping against the black clouds, a canopy briefly catching the sun. Varl had told her they were Lightnings, probably out of Zarak East, running an interdiction patrol to maintain Eltath airspace. Curth didn’t know anything about that, but she knew that a skirmish was underway. She sat in the cab of the cargo-10, reviewing her medical reports, but the sporadic noise of the battle kept drawing her attention.
Something flashed. A silver dot, about five kilometres west. She saw it screw-roll down out of a great dark, buttress of low cloud, blurred by the rain. A flurry of tiny lights suddenly surrounded it, a cloud like fireflies or sparks cast up by a bonfire. They swirled for a second, then streaked away, lost in the cloud. A moment later, the entire cloud bank was back-lit by a fierce series of yellow flashes, flames blooming behind the dark vapour. The staggered pops of the multiple detonations reached her after a second. By then, the silver dot had gone. She saw something drop out of the cloudbank. A streak of fire that fell straight down, the sunlight flashing off wing panels as they folded around the fireball and fluttered away. The streak of fire vanished behind the rooftops.
Someone rapped at the window of the cab door.
Curth got out and climbed down. The rain was worse than before.
‘They’re all loaded and secure,’ Kolding told her.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘I can go with them,’ Kolding offered.
‘Colonel Rawne’s ordered me to do it, so…’ she shrugged.
Curth’s inclination was to move with the main force, but they were carrying forty casualties from the action at the Tulkar Batteries, and nine were critical. Her oath as a doctor made those souls her responsibility, and her position as the regiment’s chief medicae landed the duty firmly in her lap. Rawne knew that. The casualties needed more than a field station. They needed the surgical and intensive facilities of the Urdeshic Palace.
Across the shattered street, beyond the line of waiting transports, Rawne was briefing the officers. The Ghost companies were drawn up along the length of the street, standing at loose order, resting, and using the blown-out shop fronts as partial cover from the downpour.
‘Major Pasha has command of the primary group,’ Rawne said.
‘We can move at once, sir,’ Yve Petrushkevskaya replied confidently. ‘Three hours to the location, barring mishaps.’
Rawne nodded. ‘Asa Elam and Ferdy Kolosim are your line officers. Chain of command flows through them. Pasha gets final operational say. All clear?’
The company commanders all nodded.
‘First section, B Company, goes with me to the secondary,’ Rawne continued.
‘Just one section?’ asked Obel.
‘Don’t question me,’ Rawne replied.
‘But it’s a fair question,’ said Criid.
‘We’re stretched as it is,’ Rawne replied. ‘The primary objective needs everything we can throw at it, which is fething little as it stands. The Suicide Kings have handled him before, so we can handle him now. In and out.’
First section, B Company had become known as the Suicide Kings when the regiment first took custody of the enemy asset known as the pheguth. No one doubted they had the best level of experience.
‘But if there’s trouble…’ Kolosim began.
‘Trouble can kiss my Tanith arse,’ Rawne replied. ‘Get your companies up and ready to move. That’s it.’
‘No cheery words of inspiration, sir?’ asked Theiss.
Rawne paused. ‘Am I known for that sort of thing?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Theiss admitted with a grin.
‘Then imagine me sending you thoughts and prayers,’ Rawne said.
The officers laughed.
‘I tell you what,’ said Rawne. ‘These orders come directly from Gaunt. That should be enough for all of you. Feth, imagine it’s him standing here briefing you in this fething rain. I’d prefer that. I’d be much happier sitting in the palace with my boots up on a desk. Get on with it.’
The group broke up. The company officers – Criid, Kolosim, Theiss, Arcuda, Elam, Obel, Spetnin and the rest – strode back to their waiting men, shouting brisk orders. The drenched Ghosts began getting to their feet and shouldering their packs. Ludd moved among them, yelling strong words of encouragement.