The Bleeding Chalice

'You are right of course, inquisitor.’ replied the Pil-gim. 'One ship amongst hundreds gives us long odds. Perhaps you are pursuing a better lead at the moment? One strong enough to negate the value of optimism in our mission?'

Thaddeus had decided long ago not to rise to the Pilgrim's baiting. If he wasn't so useful, Thaddeus would have refused to accept him into the strike force when it was first assembled by the Ordo Hereticus. But the feel the Pilgrim had for the soul of the renegade Chapter was one of the few edges Thaddeus had.

They came to a bulkhead in the form of a massive set of bronze double doors. Thaddeus spoke a codeword and the doors swung open. Thaddeus and the Pilgrim stepped through into the cavernous space. The bridge of the Crescent Moon was suspended above the engineering decks, so the navigational consoles and command pulpit looked down on the massive spi

Thaddeus had no flag-captain. He commanded his own ship. Servitors were slaved into most of the consoles so they could relay his commands directly. The platforms of the bridge held only the servitors, Thaddeus and the Pilgrim, Sister Aescarion, and Colonel Vi

'Sister, colonel.’ said Thaddeus briskly. 'Our course is for the Subsector Therion. Have your troops make ready for warp travel.’ At his words the servitors twitched as they fed his commands into the Crescent's machine-spirit. 'A space hulk is an environment not to be taken lightly. You may be required to put your troops at considerable risk.’

'We have chased ghosts for too long.’ said Aescarion. 'My Sisters will give thanks for the opportunity to bring some purity to the place.’

'The men of the Hereticus Storm regiment will be ready.’ said Vi

The regiment, actually a vast body of men dispersed across uncountable Inquisitorial retinues and fortresses, had been seconded to the Ordo Hereticus for so long that they now had nothing to do with their parent Imperial Guard at all, instead being raised at Hereticus's request and trained in Inquisitorial facilities. Thaddeus had five platoons, over two hundred men, in the Crescent Moon's cargo holds, every one of them rigorously conditioned to face any horror with their assault-patterned lasguns, and perform the most gruesome of tasks at Thad-deus's request.

Thaddeus ascended the short flight of steps to the command pulpit that overlooked the banks of servitor-ma

'Has he had some insight?' Sister Aescarion enquired. She was standing by the pulpit and watching the Pilgrim, who was looking down on the rumbling engines as the engine-gang got them started.

'He seemed confident the hulk has something to do with the Soul Drinkers.’ replied Thaddeus. 'I have reason to trust his judgement.'

'I understand that I am under your command, inquisitor, and that he and I will be called upon to fight the same battle. But it makes me uneasy that I have so little idea of who or what he is.'

Thaddeus smiled. 'Sister, do you think me a radical? You should not believe the rumours you hear. We are not all daemon-baiting madmen in the Inquisition. The Pilgrim is not a monster.'

Sister Aescarion did not return his smile. She had gained a reputation as a dependable commander of battle-sisters working alongside the Inquisition, and she would have heard more than enough rumours. Many of them were true - Thaddeus had himself been involved in clearing up the mess left by the Eisenhorn heresies and the destruction of the rogue Hereticus cell on Chalchis Traxiam. 'The Sisters wonder, inquisitor.’ she said. 'That is all. They must be certain they are commanded by those who have the same depth of faith as they do. Idle chatter undermines the purity of faith and it would be better for me if you were more open about your companions.’

'The Pilgrim can be trusted, Sister. You have my word on that and this is all you need. Now, you should make sure your Sisters are prepared for departure, we will be in the Empyrean for some weeks.’

Sister Aescarion nodded curtly and strode off the bridge, the boots of her black lacquered power armour clacking on the metal floor of the bridge. Colonel Vi

The preparations took little time. Thaddeus valued the Crescent Moon partly because the procedures for begi

The inhabitants of the agri-world looked up to see a tiny bright star winking suddenly in the sky and then disappear. One of them, Adept Chloure, sighed a prayer of gratitude to the Emperor that the visitors had not taken him with them, and turned back to the never-ending mountain of paperwork.

TWO

THE SKY HAD turned dark over Eumenix. The whole hive world was locked in a perpetual twilight, lit only by the weak orange glow of the heatsink exhausts and the flickering, dying lumospheres that were winking out one by one as the planet died. Over Hive Quintus, home to a rapidly decreasing population of almost a billion, it rained greasy ash as the pyres of the dead begin to tower over the looted palaces of the nobles. The hive city's screams could be heard for kilometres around - wailing sirens of Arbites riot control tanks, the shriek of collapsing tu

And the smell. Burning, certainly - it could hardly be otherwise when fire was the only thing that could keep anything clean any more. And spilt fuel. And panicked sweat. But there was something else, sweet but caustic: a smell that made noses wrinkle and eyes water. It steeped the entire city from the pleasure-galleries to the underhive, to the endless maintenance warrens and the gold-plated halls of trade. It seeped out into the barren wastes between cities. Even in the wilds outside the city, those who tried to flee by land could smell it, and just before the seething pollution flats claimed them they knew it was the stink of death. And not just the ordinary death that wandered Hive Quintus constantly - this was the stench of the plague.