Materfamilias Hesperides sighed at Niobe's words. How many times had she herself uttered those selfsame words? And how many times had she been disciplined by her Superiors? Now it was her turn to do just that. It was her responsibility as leader of this expedition. As much as she shared her Sister's view, protocol demanded that correction follow dissent. Pausing only to lick some moisture onto her dry lips, Hesperides cut Niobe off in mid sentance.

'Though they are heathens, the Brethren of the Machine are our brothers still, children of the Emperor.' she began, quoting a familiar passage from the Ecclesiastical Dogma as much to reassure herself as her sisters. 'The recovery of Standard Template Constructs is of importance to all citizens of the Imperium, and all of His children must endeavor to aid in their recovery. While the Machine priests may decipher the texts, it falls to those of us more pure in heart to recover the databases themselves. We all have our part to play in our Father's grand designs, sister, and we should not question His will.'

'My apologies, sister, I spoke out of turn.' Niobe's face was flushed, her embarassment clear.

Hesperides managed to keep herself from smiling at her sister's discomfort. Not only was joy at another's discomfort a sin, but it didn't do much for squad morale to see their leader in so bad a light.

Then Sister Leda turned in her seat at the front of the Rhino and called back to the Materfamilias.

"We've arrived."

***

As the squads disembarked from their vehicles, Hesperides studied her charges, resplendant in the dazzling silver armour and white robes of the Order of the Argent Shroud. Twenty nine sisters, drivers notwithstanding, and all in her care. As a first mission in command, she could not afford to lose a single one, although the chances of a fatality on such a routine mission were slight. It didn't stop her worrying, though.

She took her place in the centre, and studied her surroundings. Pyrrhus was a planet currently passing through the feudal period of human civilisation, so she was not surprised to see a total lack of Imperial technology. The buildings of the settlement were of primitive design, all single storied and constructed of some chalky substance. The sun, high in the sky, cast dark shadows that lent a somewhat sinister air to the village, one that only added to her sense of apprehension. Yet that was not what first struck the Materfamilias as odd. What was strange was the total absence of life. This was a village, a place where men lived. There should have been some sound, a bird in the sky, stinging insects, something. But there was nothing. Of course, that could only make the recovery of the database that much easier.

'Bolters at the ready, be vigilent.' It always helped to be cautious.

At the head of the column of the Ecclesiarchy's finest warriors, Hesperides felt like she was stepping back in time. Brightly coloured blankets hung from windows and covered doorways. The streets were paved with cobblestones, amplifying the sounds of their marching feet. As she passed nearer the buildings she could see that some of them served as shops, selling furs and clothing, others were unsavoury looking drinking establishments. Some cavernous buildings proved to be a bit of a mystery, until Sister Dialogus Selena, quite an expert on the local culture, informed her that they served as stables for riding beasts known as horses. As there were none there, there was probably a good reason for there being no one present in the settlement. They could be visiting a neighbouring town, or paying their respects to the dead in a custom unique to the planet. Corpses were taken beyond the outskirts of the village and buried with great ceremony, while all who lived in the town paid their respects individually. Selena had never witnessed one before, and seemed to be greatly disappointed to be here at a time when one was taking place and to miss it.

'There will be other opportunities for sight-seeing, Sister. Right now we have work to do.' Hesperides told her.

Selena took this with a mere incline of her head, but the Materfamilias could see that she was hiding her true feelings. Good; emotion clouded judgement. But Selena's explanation made sense, and now she was confident that nothing sinister was afoot. The time had come to find the STC, and the best place to start would be the centre of town.

As the Sororitas advanced into what had once been the town square, the horror soon became apparant.

First came the smell. Drifting on the breeze, it lashed at the senses, causing hands to fly to mouths. Hesperides' was not among them. Over the years, she had become desensitised to the scents of death, and, as much as the smell of crudely cooked meat overpowered her senses, she refused to acknowledge it. She had smelt worse, and much of that had been caused by her own righteous use of a blessed flamer.

Then there were the sights. Poles of black metal were skewered firmly in the ground, each rising to heights many times taller than the buildings around them. Hesperides had thought nothing of them at first, they could just have been some primitive form of street lighting. As the distance closed however, she saw them for what they were.

Atop each pole was a wheel, again of black steel, its spokes lashed together with thick rope. The rope also lashed other things, like wrists. For crucified upon these wheels of torment were human cadavers. They had reached quite an advanced state of decay, and what flesh remained had been worried by carrion feeders. They were little more than skeletons now, the intricasies of the Emperor's design opened for all to see.

Hesperides was mesmerised by the sight, unable to drag her eyes from the horror that assailed and revolted her senses. She was brought back by the sounds of violent disgust behind her.

Sister Tecmessa was on her knees, wiping vomit from her lip and coughing violently. Hesperides was at her side in an instant, hauling her to her feet and turning her away from the sight. She remembered that this was Tecmessa's first time outside the convent, and she could have chosen better circumstances to introduce her to the inhumanity of the outside world.

'I, I'm sorry - I don't - don't...' Tecmessa sobbed.

'Hush sister, I know. I too feel your pain, but there's no need to worry.' Hesperides comforted her, laying a reassuring hand on her sister's shoulder. 'This misapplication will not go unpunished.'

'Misapplication?' Tecmessa's cries ceased as she raised her head in puzzlement.

'Yes, sister, misapplication. This method of killing is reserved only for criminals guilty of a level five heresy, yet I see no evidence of an Ecclesiastical trial having taken place here.'

'I'm sorry, but we didn't have the time.'

Instantly the Battle Sisters were alert, scanning the surrounding expanse for the source of the voice. Perched atop a building at the opposite end of the square was a man, a vulture lurking close to the scent of death.

'Who are you?' demanded Hesperides, unholstering her bolt pistol as she stepped forward.

'You mean to say that you do not know?' asked the stranger in his eloquent yet high pitched voice.

He sat cross legged, dressed in robes of black and brown. They clung to him like a tent, making it impossible to see his limbs, only folds. His face was masked by the hood, and the only visible parts of his body were his hands, pale and thin. He was toying with an amulet that hung from a golden chain around his neck, flipping it between his fingers, which seemed agonisingly long.

'Have they forgotten us already, brothers?' he asked, getting to his feet and throwing his arms out wide. 'Have the usurpers forgotten those that they replaced so quickly?' A low growl of anger entered his voice, and Hesperides tightened her grip on her bolt pistol. This man was clearly deranged, but she would wait for a clear indication of his heresy before firing.

Then there was movement, and from the doorways of the gutted hovels power armoured figures strode, clutching archaic bolters close to their chests. They too wore robes over their black armour, but their faces were covered by masks of steel. The sisters spun to face these newcomers, yet Hesperides kept her attention on their leader. Any moment now he would make his move...

'I think you can see for yourselves that you're surrounded, so I hope I won't need to advise you to lower your weapons. You do not stand a chance against us, my poor Brides of the Emperor, so you would do well to surrender youselves to our Lord's mercy now. For, after all...'

He was mocking them. Mocking her. He dared to claim mercy for false gods in the prescence of his spiritual betters, this once man, this thing. His damnation was beyond doubt. And there was only one way to deal with the damned...

'We are the Daughters of the Divine Emperor!' Hesperides bellowed. 'We do NOT surrender to misguided Chaos Marines!'

As she gave voice to her rage, she vented it in more physical ways as well. She raised her pistol to the rooftop figure and pressed the trigger while the heathen was still ranting.

The roar of the bolt shell's discharge gave the man a moment to realise what was happening before the projectile hit him; a moment to consider the mistakes he had made in this life. But instead of the expected screams and spraying of blood, a blinding glare of light arced from him, stinging the eyes of the sisters with its brightness.

Even as Hesperides' vision began to return, she was already aware of the fact that the man was laughing. She looked up to see that he was now standing before her, holding aloft the artefact of his salvation, the object to which he owed his life. Looking up, she saw only too clearly what he held at the end of the chain.

'No...' she mouthed, taking a step away from this abomination.

'What's the matter, my dear?' cackled the man, lowering his arms and holding the object before him in one clenched, gloved hand. 'Haven't you seen a rosarius before?'

Hesperides did not answer him. This daemon serving wretch held in his hand the very symbol of the Emperor's divinity, the ultimate sacrilige! No true servant of the Emperor could stand for such a thing. With one fluid motion she drew her power sword and thrust at him, hoping to find a weak point in his protective force field. Yet he was not standing there anymore, but a few metres to her right. He had let the rosarius fall from his hand and merely pointed at her.

'Frateris Templars! The usurpers have refused our kind invitation! Cleanse their souls!'

The black armoured figures levelled their bolters at the sisters. As one, they took a step forward. And then another. Then they began to run. There was a cry from one of the Sororitas, the discharge of a gun and a bolt shell inpacting upon one of the Templar's breast plate. Then they began to return fire.

As the Templars closed in, wildly firing their bolters into the sisters' defensive ring, and she quickly reeled off directions to the Superiors, Hesperides' mind was racing. So that was what this was! She had thought the Templars disbanded with the ascension of Thor, but apparantly some of them hadn't been willing to lay down their arms. How they were here now did not matter. All that mattered at the moment was staying alive. And returning that rosarius to someone more deserving...

Hesperides looked about her. As yet, no sisters had fallen, their armour deflecting the bolt shells easily, while a couple of Templars lay dead, having learned all too late that wearing easily flammable robes was not a good idea when facing flamer armed foes. Their leader was nowhere to be seen. He must be around somewhere...

But there was no time to search now, as already the Templars had closed with the Sororitas, drawing swords from scabbards almost languidly, an eerie calm settled over them. Hesperides had more than enough time to parry the blow of the warrior before her, slicing through both his blade and his arm with a single sweep of her power sword. As he fell to the ground, only now a low moan of animal pain emerging from within his helm, she denied him the killing blow, leaving him to die slowly, leaving him to think about the heresy he had committed.

To her right, Sister Clarisse was desperately trying to fend off the sweeping attacks of another Templar with her boltgun. Already she had been forced down on one knee, and she would not be able to defeat her opponent at such a disadvantage. The Materfamilias did not hesitate, immediately rushing to the aid of her stricken charge. The Templar had seen her approach, however, and was already swinging around to face her, kicking Clarisse into the dirt with a blow from his armoured boot. Hesperides could see that felling him would be a more daunting prospect than her last foe. He was taller and heavier (if she was any judge) for a start, and handled his weapon with skill. Already he twirled it through the air, an elegant flash of silver the trail behind it as it span and danced in his grasp. Then he stopped. Now the sword was held two-handed, and being raised above his head. Giving vent to a roar, he began to charge.

But Hesperides was waiting for him. Already she had ceased her assault, letting her sword arm hang by her side. Her other was raised, the blessed bolt pistol discharging its round into the Templar's face. He carried on running for a few seconds after his head disintegrated, but then his carcass collapsed to the ground, berefit of life.

Clarisse had already regained her feet, a brief nod to her superior all the gratitude there was time for in the swirling melee of combat. The Templars, now they were up close, had the advantage. More than one female corpse lay upon the ground, their souls gone to meet the Emperor. Without close combat weapons the sisters were easy prey for the lashing sabres of the Templars. The sister superiors were faring slightly better, their glowing power swords cleaving the traitors' armour like bolt shells through a gretchin. They were but two however, and the ranks of the Templars seemed inexhaustible. The occasional burst of fire from flamers was thinning them out, but Hesperides was enough of a veteran to be able to tell when the battle was lost. There would be no withdrawal, though. This filth was far worse than even the traitor legions, and had to be cleansed. Though they would die in the process, she and her sisters would pave the way for the righteous retribution of the Emperor's armies, earning themselves a place amongst the saints of the Imperium in the Emperor's heaven.

Suddenly something heavy smashed against her backpack, causing her to stumble in the mud. Regaining her balance just in time, she ducked and swung her sword behind her. A brief cry and a mace dropping to the floor confirmed the fact that she had hit someone. Ripping the blade from where it was stuck, she turned to see the Templars' leader standing behind her, hands desperately clutching at a gash in his side.

Hesperides allowed herself a grim smile.

'So, the Emperor has finally abandoned you, eh?' she said, slicing through the chain that attatched the rosarius to the man's neck.

The amulet dropped to the ground, and Hesperides lifted her sword high. It was always the way of the sinful to seek salvation, maybe even justification for their actions, and he was bound to try to pick it up. But instead, he turned on his heel and ran, stumbling as he went, a hand clasped to his side the whole time. She looked down, and saw that the rosarius had disappeared. She had no time to examine it closely, but it looked more like some manner of holographic projector... It took a few moments for Hesperides to get over her astonishment, but then she was hareing off after him as he threaded his way through the combatants, a rodent seeking sanctuary. She was not quite as nimble, hacking her way through any Templar that stood in her way. They didn't matter any more. All that mattered was catching and killing the one who had abused the Emperor's beneficient protection. She was not ready to become a martyr just yet. There would be no rest until his fire blackened bones decorated one of the wheels he himself had used to commit his crimes.

He had ducked inside one of the buildings, so Hesperides slowed. He could jump out at any moment, and even power armour couldn't save against a heavy piece of wood applied to the back of someone's skull. As she edged her way inside, she was assailed by the stench. Three corpses sat within, sitting at a table as if to eat. Each was pinned to his chair by an iron nail, the contents of their bodies emptied onto the table. They'd been dead for several days...

And there was nothing she could have done. These innocents had been wrongly executed in a cruel mockery of the Emperor's justice, and she was powerless. But there was no time for self pity. At least she could avenge them by inflicting upon their murderer every harm he had done to them. In triplicate. But he wasn't there. A quick search yielded a trapdoor in the floor. How fast was this man? She hadn't been that far behind him, and already he'd managed to shut and bolt it against her pursuit. She tightened the grip on her power sword, and her other hand found its way to the rosarius hanging around her own neck. Although not incorporating a conversion field, the simple icon did manage to bring her some comfort in times such as these. The Emperor was with her, and nothing could sever that bond.

The trapdoor splintered with a single blow from the sword. The steps descended into darkness, and Hesperides gave thanks to the Emperor for His wisdom in fitting power armour with in-built torches. Pausing only to unholster her pistol, she descended.

***

'Welcome, sister.'

He had been waiting for her. He stood, much the same as before, on the opposite side of the room. His wound had gone, doubtless cured by some unspeakable witchcraft. Behind him though, was another matter entirely. The whole wall buzzed, the occasional light flickering on and off, as a machine the size of the room ticked on in whatever its mysterious purpose was.

Wires criss-crossed the room and walls, hanging from the ceiling like high-tech spiderwebs. Some of them hung limp and lifeless, while others pulsed, as if feeding liquid through them. Lights of all colours flashed on and off, some small and insignificant, others giving off enough illumination to hint at the rest of the machine's detail. Dials and switches adorned every available surface, save for one. A large screen, black and empty, save for one thing. A small, green question mark, there one second and gone the next. She involuntarily gasped. She had never expected anything like this!

'I see you've noticed the STC then?' the man smiled, spreading his arms wide, as if to draw attention to the thing. 'A bit bulky, I know, but you can't expect knowledge to be contained.'

'Shut your blaspheming mouth, traitor.' she whispered, trying to control the rage within her. Anger was not a thing encouraged by the Sisterhood; it clouded the senses, eroded skill and only served to bring power to the false gods. 'I am her to put an end to you, in the name of the Emperor and all those that you have slaughtered.'

'They were not slaughtered without reason. I'm sure that, had you arrived earlier, you would have dealt with them much the same.' he argued, stepping slowly towards her.

'Maybe so, but at least we'd have done so with a prayer upon our lips, imploring the Emperor to forgive their tainted souls!' answered Hesperides, pointing her sword at his chest.

'Well, we did do that. Or at least, the Templars did. I don't know why it is that you are all obsessed with ceremony. Surely a wholesale butchering would please your Emperor more.'

Hesperides replied with a brutal kick that sent the man to the ground, his hood fluttering from his face. She caught her breath as she gazed at what lay beneath.

The stench of decayed flesh wafted up from the thing that lay prostrate before her. Little skin was left on what could be called its face, and its baleful eyes were something else... They pulsed. They throbbed, as if alive in their own right. They had no iris or pupil; they were merely white orbs that seemed to stare straight into Hesperides' soul.

She instinctively flinched back, crossing herself as protection against the repugnant being.

'You are possessed...' she finally managed to gasp, her voice sounding weak, when she should be strong! She cursed silently. This was no way for a Materfamilias to behave. Fear was merely a tool of evil to cloud the senses of the pure. It-

'Yes. Indeed I am.' rasped the daemon-thing, getting to its feet and brushing at its robes, as if their cleanliness would matter to a walking corpse.

Hesperides cleared her mind. This was no time for thinking, it was time for action. But where was the psycannon shell for her bolter? By the Holy Throne, she'd have to try and stall the daemon with conversation while she loaded the means of its destruction. Why did the Emperor have to move in such mysterious ways?

'You may have managed to claim the souls of some Templars. You will not find the Adepta Sororitas so easy to manipulate, fiend of the lower depths.' she spat, trying to unclip the magazine from her pistol behind her back, her words her only protection from the stinking wretch.

'You flatter me.' The daemon could have been grinning, but whatever jaw muscles its host had possessed had rotted long ago. 'They are all innocents, strong in their devotion to the Emperor. Only this you see before you belongs wholy to me! I thought I could claim them all, as they forsook their Emperor for deserting them. Yet despite being stranded in the Warp they refused to abandon him. Loyalty is indeed a powerful thing.'

I didn't think you'd understand the concept, Hesperides said silently. Then her fingers found what she was looking for. She just had to clip it in-

'But there was one among them who had sense. What happy coincidence that it was their Captain.' The daemon sighed. Was it trying to simulate emotion or something? 'It was a simple matter to claim him. His ambition and resentfulness left him wide open to me. Now like hounds they follow me, obeying my every command as if I were the Emperor himself! Your sisters cannot defeat them, no more than you can defeat me!'

'Then I expect they'll be victorious by the time I leave this hell hole!' Hesperides screamed, swinging her gun up and levelling it at the fell beast.

With inhuman speed it was on her, her first shot merely punching a hole in the ceiling. Talons slashed at the weapon, crushing it easily. She let it fall from her hand and reached for her sword, but it was too late. The left hand of the daemon had metamorphosed before her very eyes. Now it was a pink claw, a gigantic and grotesque parody of the human form. It clutched her by the forehead, and she screamed.

Its touch was not slimy, nor was it scaly, nothing like how she'd thought a daemon would feel. It hardly felt as if it was there at all, a breath of wind upon her skin. But she could feel its evil. Feel the desire to kill it rising within her, just to get away from it. Its face was changing too, the human bones splintering as the creature within asserted itself in reality, drinking in her fear and drawing power from it. She quickly closed her eyes and twisted her head to get away from the sight, but she couldn't escape its voice, that insinuating, impossible voice that could manage to be both seductive and repellant at the same time.

'You cannot deny me, deary. Your soul is mine for the taking, and your petty Emperor cannot save you! You are all doomed!'

Despite its insubstantial form, she felt the hand lift from her forehead. She could contain her rage no longer, and kicked out at the thing. In reply it merely laughed, her feeble attempts to hurt it the protests of a child. She was going to die, she knew it now. There was no time to confess her sins, there would be no burial, and her soul would be devoured. Grasping her rosarius with her free hand, she muttered the Fede Imperialis to herself. But why mutter the hymn? The daemon should not think that it had won. She would show her defiance to the last. Now she was shrieking the prayer, emptying her lungs, bawling each word and verse. She thrust the rosarius at the daemon with all her might, and hit something. But it was not ethereal like the hand had been. It was very much solid, and suddenly burst aflame.

She snapped her eyes open, her fear outweighed by her surprise. The daemon's head was a funeral pyre of unliving tissue, and the fire was spreading. On its forehead was impressed the mark of the rosarius. Already it had released its grip upon her, a banshee wail hissing from its jaws as it desperately tried to put out the fire. But Hesperides wasn't going to let it get away that easily. She struggled to her feet, the daemon's touch having somehow sapped her strength. Never the less, she managed to take up her sword once more, and brought it, two handed, across the daemon's neck. The wailing intensified, and the daemon finally relinquished the body of its human host.

Robes, flesh and bone and flew from it, shards cutting and nicking Hesperides' face. The bulbously lean, grotesquely beautiful and blasphemously magnificent form of the beast rose above the Battle Sister, its head still burning. With taloned hands the size of a man it struggled to extinguish the blaze, to no avail. Its tattered wings burst into light as they flailed about. The monstrous tail, wormlike and garishly pink, lashed at Hesperides, but she was quick enough to evade its sluggish attacks.

In reply she tore her rosarius from its chain, wrapping it around her wrist. Grasping her power sword firmly in her other hand, she took a deep breath. If ever she needed the Emperor's protection, now was the time. Slashing with her blade, she severed the tip of the daemon's tail, and it roared, more in irritation than in pain. Ignoring the holy fire that was threatening to melt its grotesque horned head, the daemon threw itself at its attacker, trying to catch her in its jaws. She thrust her sword straight at the centre of its forehead, and plunged it in up to the hilt. Holding on with all her might, she thrust her other hand, still holding the rosarius, into one of the thing's eyes.

The daemon reared up, shaking from side to side to dislodge her. Hesperides merely clung to her sword, surprised that the fire was not hot at all. Truly the Emperor is watching over me, she told herself as she withdrew the rosarius and punched it into the other eye, which shattered as if it were glass.

The daemon, now blind and enduring pain beyond mortal knowledge, took to the air, smashing through the ceiling and into the clear skies above. Then one of its wings gave way and it came crashing down, a burning ruin. Hesperides withdrew her sword and stared at it. Was it really dead? It was hard to tell sometimes, with daemons. It wasn't moving, though. And the aura of evil that had surrounded it had dissipated. A wave of relief swept over her to fill the void, but then her exertions caught up with her and she fell to her knees, dropping the sword and struggling for breath.

When she lifted her head, she saw that, all around her, the Sororitas and Templars had ceased their battle and were staring at the daemon. Now was not the time for rest, the Emperor still had work for her. But should she trust the words of the daemon? Were these former warriors of the Emperor merely misguided or were they all daemons such as the one she had just slain? She had to make a decision, and just hoped that the Emperor was guiding her to the right one.

Helping herself to her feet with her power sword, she adressed the assembled warriors. Or at least, she intended to. Suddenly the roar of gunfire started up again, and the surviving Templars were sent sprawling to the ground as their chests were torn open from behind. It took only seconds for each and every one of them to be cut down.

Hesperides forgot her lethargy and ducked behind the daemon's carcass, bawling at her sisters to likewise find cover. Beside her lay the body of one of the Templars. From the severity of his wound she guessed that he'd been executed with a bolt shell, and it was more than likely that the other three dozen or so had been killed in a similar way. But who had fired upon them?

'There is no need to hide, sister. The danger is past.'

The voice was harsh and commanding, yet that didn't necessarilly mean an enemy. Cautiously, Hesperides came out of hiding. Secretly, she was relieved to. In the cold light of day, the daemon was decomposing at an incredible rate, and hiding in its entrails was not an experience she wanted to repeat in a hurry.

The man who had spoken wore a suit of tactical dreadnought armour, totally black, save for the insignia emblazoned upon his chest. The serpent shielded symbol of the Inquisition. She noted that the bolter in his left hand had been recently fired.

With some difficulty he raised his arms to remove his great helm, shaking loose the long grey hair beneath. Hesperides caught her breath at the look in his eyes, the intense stare of the fanatic, made all the more compelling by the contrast it drew with the sickly pale tone of the skin. Compared to this man, the possessed had looked positively healthy.

'You're lucky we got here when we did.' he intoned, clipping the helm onto a slot in the armour's waist.

Hesperides' head was whirling with questions, but at that moment only one found its way to her lips; 'We?'

Following his gaze as his eyes moved, she espied the surviving sisters of her patrol. Their once fine power armour was dented and chipped, their white robes stained with blood. Yet, despite it all, only five of them appeared to have fallen in the conflict with the Frateris. They had shown themselves more than deserving of the Emperor's protection. That was something to feel proud of. But then she realised just who was missing. Hesperides allowed herself a moment of grief when she realised that Tecmessa was not amongst the survivors.

Standing around the huddled group, bulky figures, their terminator armour a lighter shade than that of the Inquisitor, and definitely more intricately carved. Writhing serpents, winged skulls, swords and more all decorated their grey armour. With glowing halberds they herded the unresisting Sororitas into a circle. One turned its back, but Hesperides still noticed it raise something in its left hand. Something that glowed with an eerie red light.

'What are they doing?' she gasped, shock and exhaustion combining to drain what little strength she had.

A hand touched her shoulder. Despite the fact that it was meant only to get her attention, the incredible strength gifted to the Inquisitor by his armour caused Hesperides to give vent to a small cry, which she immediately hated herslf for. Here she was a representative of the Ecclesiarchy, and shouldn't be showing weakness before the Inquisition.

'They are being... attended to. We need to be sure that they weren't contaminated by that abomination.'

'What of the Templars?' Hesperides removed the gauntlet from her shoulder and turned to stare at the Inquisitor's eyes, something she regretted after a couple of seconds. 'You didn't seem to need to test them.'

'That was... different. Whether or not they were Chaos' pawns is of no consequence. Even were they still loyal, there is no place in the Imperium for such as they.' The Inquisitor's eyes glazed over, and spittle dripped from his lip as he launched into a tirade. 'Their time has gone! We can't have them being exposed to Imperial citizens! They've been isolated for nigh on five thousand years. Who can say how much the Imperial Creed has changed since their day? I will not have the Imperium endangered by their unprocessed thoughts!'

Taken aback, Hesperides felt it somehow her duty to reason with this maniac. To defend those who had killed five of her sisters. She didn't know why. 'Surely there must have been something you could have done for them? Exterminating them out of hand seems to me to be the easy way out.'

'Ha, and I suppose you'll be telling me next that you feel pity for those heretics that you have burnt at the stake?' spat the Inquisitor. 'These two things are no different! They are both deviations from the Emperor's will, and there can be no toleration of deviants, can there, Sister Hesperides?'

'The rewards of tolerance are treachery and betrayal.' she murmered, but somehow the Emperor's word didn't bring her the same comfort they usually did. Before they had been justifications of the measures that were necessary to protect humanity, but now they seemed more like excuses. And excuses are the refuge of the weak...

'You have me at a disadvantage, brother.' she said, struggling to quell the heretical thoughts within her.

'My name is Inquisitor Prada, but to you I am always 'lord'. However, I believe that we have more serious business here than my name. Where is the STC database?'

'Don't you want to make sure that the daemon is dead first, my lord?' A calm exterior, she needed that at all times. Maybe he was a psyker! Then she'd need to hide her thoughts as well. She hadn't done anything more than pondered his motives, but she had heard tales of Inquisitors having people executed for far lesser crimes. She hoped he wasn't a psyker.

'I am quite sure that the decaying mound of putrescence behind me has had the dark spirit that drove it driven from its body.' he told her. He practically announced it. 'After all, was it not I who slew the beast?'

'But I thought-'

'Sister, the Grey Knights and I are possessed of psychic abilities beyond your imaginings. It was the work of moments to unbind the chains that bound such a minor spirit to this plane. It was a little easier than expected, though. The Emperor must have guided my actions this day. Now come. You will take me to the database.'

***

The daylight streaming in through the hole in the ceiling changed Hesperides' opinions of the STC somewhat. Where before it had been a brooding, almost living thing, its bulk only hinted at by the torchlight, it was a little disappointing when in full view. The lights that had stood out so brilliantly in the total darkness of the daemon's crypt were merely pathetically winking bulbs of ancient design, and the whole thing was covered in rust and the work of spiders.

'Magnificent.' said Prada. 'This is the best preserved database I have ever seen, and believe me, I've seen many in my time.'

'So, will you be supervising the tech priests' work, my lord?' enquired Hesperides, trying to force her doubt of the Inquisitor's eyesight into the back of her mind.

'Of course not. There won't be much worth salvaging from this burnt out wreck.'

'But I thought you said-'

The Materfamilias was cut off in mid sentance by the Inquisitor's bolt pistol sounding out in the close confines of the cellar. The computer exploded, showering them both with fragments of machinery.

'Mankind is not ready for the knowledge that the STC can offer them.' the Inquisitor told her, as if lecturing a child. 'I suppose I should thank you for bringing me here, but it would be a little pointless since you won't remember it.'

'What do you mean, my lord?' she asked him, sensing the concealed threat in his voice.

'I'm afraid you've seen too much, sister. Like your comrades above, I regret to say that I'm going to have to erase all recollection of what has transpired here from your memory. My powers have fully recovered from the battle with the daemon now and I see no more reason to delay this.'

As he advanced on her, Hesperides was struck with a sudden thought. What if he had known all along? He had just been playing with her. He was no better than the daemon had been. Drawing her sword, she was determined not to go down without a fight. But a fight was the flast thing on the Inquisitor's mind. With a simple wave of his hand he forced her to her knees. She felt him clawing around inside her mind, trying to make her release her grip on the sword. She would not give in to a witch! The Emperor was with her, watching over her, and would protect her from this foul sorcery. Muttering psalms of hatred and righteous abhorrance to herself, she struggled to keep her grip. She could tell that the Inquisitor wasn't finding this as easy as he had thought it was going to be. For one thing, those eyes of his, the insane eyes which which he condemned all that he saw, were closed. Sweat ran down his forehead, and he was gritting his teeth as if it would somehow break her will. Suddenly his eyes opened, and he raised the pistol. As he did so, his hold upon her mind was lifted, and she sprang forward, sword raised. But even as she sliced through the wrist of the hand that held the gun, she realised her mistake. He had distracted her from the mental battle with his physical threat, and now she was unprepared for his renewed assault. She was lost.

***

When she came to, she wasn't in the cellar anymore. Silhouetted against the glare of the lights overhead was Hospitaller Coronis.

'Praise the Emperor that you have recovered, Materfamilias.' she said, smiling and helping Hesperides to her feet.

They were in one of the infirmaries aboard the spacecraft Vengeful Mace, orbiting Pyrrhus, that much she could tell. But what had happened? Where was the Inquisitor?

'How did I get here?' she asked Coronis.

'You were injured in that explosion when you were unearthing the database, Materfamilias. You were one of the lucky ones. Five other sisters died, poor Tecmessa among them.'

'An explosion?'

'Yes, I don't know the details, but the tech-priests are apparantly blaming you for all the damage that has been done to the STC. The Prioress herself will be wanting to see you when we return to Terra.'

'But I didn't do anything, it was the Inquisitor!' protested Hesperides.

'Inquisitor? Materfamilias, are you feeling all right?'

'No, I am not feeling all right, sister! Five sisters have died today, slain by Frateris Templars, and an Inquisitor destroyed the STC database! Ask any of the others; they'll confirm my story!'

Coronis shook her head sadly. Drawing back to the doorway, she paused for a moment.

'The only Templars down there are long gone. Dead for centuries, the others said, a bit of a mystery by all accounts. And I'm sure we'd all know if there was an Inquisitor around. I think perhaps you need more rest, sister. I will return tomorrow to see how you are recovering. Until then, may the Emperor bless you and keep you.'

The door closed, steam venting from pipes as the ancient mechanism locked. Hesperides let herself fall onto the bed, alone with her thoughts. The Inquisitor had said he would erase their memories, but then why did she remember everything? Maybe it was just some sick joke on Prada's part, revenge for the loss of his hand. He had betrayed the Templars and the Mechanicus, and let her take the blame. Perhaps it amused him to know that she remembered what had really happened. But Inquisitors weren't exactly renowned for their sense of humour. It had to have been something else, but what? A cold chill stole over her, and she knew. How she discovered it, she didn't know. She might have been aware all this time, but had merely not been ready to accept it. It was the daemon.