The Truth
Zelia hammered on the door, while Mekki and Meshwing attempted to see if they could override the lock.
‘Stop that,’ growled Eighty-Seven, still holding Amity at gunpoint.
‘I told you it was a mistake trusting him,’ the rogue trader said.
‘And I should have believed you,’ Zelia said, running at the skitarius. The guard turned as Zelia slammed into him, trying to yank the arc rifle from his grip. He pulled the weapon free, his armoured elbow catching her in the face. She went down, head throbbing, as Amity attacked, throwing herself at the armoured warrior. He stumbled, but was too strong, and pushed the rogue trader back. Still dazed, Zelia scrambled to her feet as Eighty-Seven brought his rifle up and–
CRACK!
The guard clattered to the floor. In his place stood Grunt, hammer-hands raised in case Eighty-Seven still had fight in him, but the skitarius lay still.
‘Good to have you back, Grunt,’ Amity said, rubbing her neck as she used a table to pull herself back to her feet. ‘Now knock down that door.’
Mekki stood aside as the lumbering giant stomped over to slam his hammers into the rusty metal.
‘What are they doing in there?’ Zelia asked.
‘Maybe we can have a look,’ Mekki said, hurrying to a screen. Meshwing went to plug her data-connectors into the cogitator, but the Martian stopped her.
‘No. The infection is spreading through the technology, remember?’
‘Should you be touching it, then?’ Amity asked, looking over his shoulder.
Mekki found a terminal that was reasonably free of rust. ‘I should be fine as long as I do not connect using my haptic implants. Infection only seems to occur when directly linked to the system.’ He continued flicking switches with his good hand. ‘If I can just get the internal pict-feeds working…’
An image of the Cognis chamber appeared on one of the screens. Zelia gasped as she saw Talen trapped in the central chair, a metal band pressed down on his head.
‘Is that the Diadem?’
Mekki pressed more controls and the ganger’s angry voice crackled over the vox.
‘What are you doing? Let me go.’
‘I’m afraid I cannot do that,’ Jeremias said, slipping the second half of the Diadem over his own head. It caught on the inquisitor’s silver mask, and Jeremias winced as if in pain.
Corlak hovered to its master. ‘The mask will have to be removed, sire, if the procedure is to be a success.’
‘Procedure?’ Talen asked, still struggling against his restraints. ‘What are you planning to do to me?’
Talen fell silent as the inquisitor pulled off his mask to reveal puckered green skin. This wasn’t the effect of the acid rain. The scars looked old – Jeremias’s cheek was covered in weeping sores.
‘It’s you,’ Talen gasped. ‘You’re the source of the infection. You’re the source of the plague.’
A look of sadness passed over Jeremias’s mismatched face. ‘Unfortunately, the use of the psychic amplifier must have passed my… condition into the technology of this planet.’ He handed the mask to Corlak. ‘The Mechanicus talk of machine-spirits that dwell in all cogitators. Perhaps those spirits can be corrupted as easily as flesh.’
He looked Talen straight in the eye. ‘I didn’t ask for this. I was infected long ago when fighting Chaos Space Marines on Feston. I felt the disease creep into my mind even as we brought them to their maggot-strewn knees. It’s been in there ever since, squirming like a slime-snake, but I was strong. I’ve kept the plague at bay by any means possible while I searched for a cure – rejuve treatments, arcane technology… even sheer force of will.’
‘That’s why the Nurgling didn’t affect you,’ Talen realised. ‘It didn’t have anything to do with leech-spheres. You were already infected. And I trusted you. I defended you. What else have you lied about? Amity and the slaves? Was all that a pack of lies too?’
The boils on Jeremias’s face pulsed. ‘Your friend was disgraced…’
‘Because she sold a flotilla into slavery…’
‘Because she freed a consignment of slaves she was paid to transport,’ Jeremias snapped. ‘There, that’s the truth. Are you happy now? The slaves belonged to Molinda Kolbrun, a particularly corrupt governor in the Taramus Sector.’
‘So he revoked her commission to cover his tracks. And you knew all along.’
‘Of course I knew,’ Jeremias snarled. ‘And what difference did it make? She’s a rogue trader, a nobody, but me…?’ He leant forward, so close that Talen could smell the rot on his breath. ‘I’m an inquisitor. Have you any idea what it is like to suffer this indignity, this shame?’ He tapped his head with a shaking finger. ‘Every day I feel the infection getting stronger, but I have my duty. I can’t fall. I won’t. The Diadem is my last chance, and by the Emperor’s name, I mean to take it.’
Jeremias pushed himself up, teetering slightly. Free of the mask, the boils were spreading across his face, the infection finally taking hold. He staggered to the second chair, falling into the seat as the hammering on the door intensified.
‘Hurry, Corlak,’ he wheezed. ‘We haven’t long.’
The servo-skull flitted between them, using cables to link the two halves of the Diadem.
‘But I still don’t understand,’ Talen admitted as the servo-skull completed its work. ‘What have I got to do with this? You said we were going to work together.’
Jeremias giggled. It was a horrible wet laugh, more like a Nurgling than a man. ‘And we will, Talen… just not as you expected. This is the Diadem of Transference, boy.’
‘And what exactly does it transfer?’
‘Minds,’ the inquisitor replied, his lips beginning to crack. ‘My mind will be free of this corrupted flesh.’
Talen’s stomach lurched as he realised what Jeremias was saying. ‘You’re going to transfer into me?’
‘You are strong. A little young maybe, but I’m running out of options.’
‘But what about me? What will happen to my mind?’
‘You will be trapped in the master’s body,’ Corlak told him. ‘It is an honour.’
‘An honour? Have you seen it?’
The infection was spreading rapidly now, Jeremias’s once handsome features all but consumed by pulsating boils.
‘Please,’ said Talen, making one last attempt to break free. ‘Don’t do this.’
‘It is my duty to survive,’ Jeremias croaked, his lips swollen to twice their normal size. ‘Not that you’d understand anything about duty, the boy who ran from the service of his Emperor. The boy who abandoned his post. Abandoned his family.’
‘I thought you understood! You said we would do great things together.’
‘And we will,’ Jeremias crowed. ‘That’s the beauty of it. Together we shall continue the Emperor’s work. We will serve… serve…’ The rest of the sentence was lost as Jeremias was wracked by a coughing fit, his entire body convulsing.
‘We must begin,’ Corlak announced, sweeping to the controls. ‘The master’s mind must be saved.’
‘No,’ Talen cried out. ‘Corlak, stop!’
But the servo-skull was already flicking switches. ‘Your sacrifice will not be in vain, Talen Stormweaver. You will finally serve your Emperor.’
Corlak pulled one final lever and the ring around Talen’s head blazed with light.