The Diadem
‘Wait,’ Talen said as Zelia went to open the door to Nalos’s chambers. ‘He’s one of those things, remember.’
‘The skitarius will go first,’ Jeremias said, standing aside so the armoured guard could stalk past.
They followed Eighty-Seven into the workshop. The place was as they’d left it, although the internal door was pitted with dents. Eighty-Seven inched forward, rifle raised as Jeremias, Amity and Corlak fell in behind, weapons drawn. A swarm of servo-sprites hovered above, fingers splayed and ready to rain down las-stings on anything that moved. The children kept back, Meshwing perched on Mekki’s shoulder, and Fleapit stayed close to Grunt.
Jeremias glanced at Mekki. ‘You. Open the door.’
The Martian crept to the controls and pressed a sequence of buttons. The door slid partially aside, jamming in the frame.
The chamber beyond was dark, the candles long since guttered. There was no movement, except for the dust motes swirling in the stale air. No one spoke and no one moved.
Finally, Jeremias took a step forward, sword raised.
With a gargled roar, Nalos burst from the darkened room, scuttling on his mechanical arms like a wolf-spider. At least, they assumed it was Nalos. His head was unrecognisable, a misshapen growth, pitted with the rusty remains of his cybernetic implants, his swollen limbs hanging from a hideously bloated body.
Eighty-Seven didn’t wait for a command. He opened fire and Nalos exploded into the now-expected gush of Nurglings. Zelia stepped back, banging into Fleapit as the servo-sprites went to work, blasting the vile creatures from every conceivable angle.
One of the imps darted forward, beady eyes fixed on Zelia before it was popped by Meshwing. Zelia’s skin crawled. The little horned beasts reminded her of something, but try as she might she couldn’t remember what it was.
Amity cried out as a Nurgling scuttled up her back. The captain spun around, trying to dislodge the creature.
‘Blast it,’ Jeremias yelled at Eighty-Seven, not caring that Amity would be hit too.
The skitarius pulled his trigger, the beam slicing through the air towards Amity. Grunt lurched forward, throwing himself in front of his captain. The blast slammed the servitor into Amity, sending her beamer skidding across the floor as they landed in a heap, the Nurgling popped beneath their combined weight.
‘What did you do?’ Amity said, hauling Grunt onto his back. The servitor was out cold.
‘It’s just a drone,’ the inquisitor snapped, sword drawn. ‘It can be repaired.’
Amity sprung back to her feet, drawing her own cutlass. She lunged, their blades clashing as the inquisitor expertly blocked the attack.
‘I assume our partnership is at an end,’ Amity said, as Jeremias thrust forward.
‘It never began.’
The rogue trader parried, feinting to the left before freezing as she saw her own beamer pointed in her direction.
Amity stared at the gun. ‘Talen? What are you doing?’
‘You need to give him the Diadem,’ the ganger said, staring down the sights.
‘What?’
‘It’s over, Amity. We know who you really are. Jeremias showed us. He told us what you did.’
The captain glared at the inquisitor. ‘Did he now?’
‘Give him the Diadem!’ Talen shouted.
‘I haven’t got it!’ she yelled back. ‘Fleapit has it locked away in that inter-dimensional portal thing on his back.’
Corlak swept towards the Jokaero. ‘You will surrender the artefact to me.’
Fleapit bared his teeth at the servo-skull.
‘I do not think he is going to,’ Mekki said, smirking at the drone.
‘Yes,’ Zelia said softly. ‘Yes, he is.’
Mekki looked at her as if she’d gone mad. ‘Zelia Lor?’
Zelia raised her hands in surrender. ‘I’m sorry, Mekki, really I am, but I’ve had enough.’
‘Enough of what?’
‘Enough of all the running, and the arguing, and the monsters and the betrayal. And for what? An alien artefact we know is dangerous.’
‘But you promised you would take it to your mother. You promised you would take it to Elise Lor.’
‘Yes, I did. But look around us, Mekki. We have a plague spreading like wildfire, zombies beating down the doors and we’re pointing guns at each other. No promise is worth all that. I know you don’t like the Inquisition, and I understand why, really I do, but they know what to do with this stuff. Jeremias deals with these things every single day. We’re just kids, Mekki.’
‘You do not mean that.’
‘Don’t I? Look at the chaos we’ve caused, all the people who have died.’
‘You’re making a mistake,’ Amity warned.
‘That’s all we’ve been doing,’ she told her sadly. ‘One mistake after another. It’s time we stopped.’
Zelia turned to Fleapit. ‘Please. Give him the Diadem. It’s over.’
Scowling, Fleapit flexed his shoulders and, with a clunk, the dimensional pack opened. He reached inside and produced the Diadem, the pack snapping shut once more.
‘At last…’ Jeremias exclaimed, snatching the artefact from Fleapit’s hands. ‘After all this time.’ He stood for a moment, running his fingers across the strange glyphs on the metal crown. Then he straightened, forcing himself to look at Zelia. ‘You chose wisely today, my dear. Now will you help me?’ He looked around the room. ‘Will you all help me?’
‘What choice do we have?’ Mekki muttered.
‘You could fight?’ Amity said, glaring at the inquisitor.
Jeremias ignored her, turning to Eighty-Seven. ‘You will guard the prisoner. She must not interfere.’
‘Interfere with what, my lord?’ the skitarius asked.
‘You asked if I would help your planet? With this I can,’ the inquisitor replied, holding up the artefact. ‘As for you,’ he continued, turning to Fleapit. ‘Can you be trusted, xenos?’
‘Yes, he can,’ Mekki insisted. ‘And his name is Flegan-Pala.’
‘Then let him prove himself.’ Jeremias pointed at the servo-sprites. ‘Take these… things and see how that battlesuit of yours is faring. If we’re going to do this, we need to be free from distractions.’
‘If we’re going to do what?’ Talen asked as Fleapit reluctantly lolloped back out into the corridor, the servo-sprites streaming after him. Only Meshwing stayed with them, crouched on Mekki’s shoulder.
Jeremias approached Talen and held out a hand. ‘First you give me that. I need your hands free.’
Talen did as he was told and the inquisitor slipped the beamer into his belt. Then the colour drained from his face and he stumbled. Both Zelia and Talen jumped forward to help him.
‘Are you quite all right, sire?’ Corlak asked, his mechadendrites twitching in concern.
Jeremias waved them away, still gripping the Diadem. ‘I am fine.’
‘Is it the bite?’ Talen asked.
The inquisitor wiped hair from his eyes. ‘Merely the effects of being near the Cognis device, but all is well. In fact, we will use the psychic amplifier to cure the infection.’
‘How?’
‘Just do as I say,’ Jeremias growled. ‘Please.’
He staggered into the darkened chamber, and the children made to follow him.
‘No,’ Jeremias said, raising a hand to stop them. ‘You must wait outside, just for a moment, until we check that it is safe. Corlak?’
The servo-skull swept into the room to check the control panel.
‘Some of the circuitry has corroded,’ it reported. ‘But the equipment seems to be operational.’
‘But what about the plague?’ Zelia reminded him. ‘If you use the technology…’
‘It’s a risk I’m willing to take,’ Jeremias rasped, indicating for Talen to join him. The ganger stepped eagerly through the door, which immediately slammed shut. He spun around, shocked.
‘Did you mean to shut them out?’
‘Yes,’ Jeremias said as Corlak grabbed Talen’s wrists with its pincers. ‘Nothing must be allowed to interfere with the preparations.’
‘Preparations?’ Talen grunted as he was dragged towards the Cognis chair. ‘What preparations? What are you doing? Let go of me!’
Corlak shoved him into the chair and the restraints snapped around his wrists and ankles, holding him in place. Talen struggled but there was no way to break free.
Jeremias staggered towards him, the Diadem in his hands. He twisted the artefact and it separated into two identical rings.
‘I didn’t know it did that,’ Talen said, wriggling as the inquisitor tried to place one of the rings over his head.
‘Oh, there’s much about the Diadem you don’t know,’ Jeremias said as he lowered the Necron crown onto Talen’s brow.