All in the Mind
Talen’s scream burst from the vox-speakers. Both halves of the Diadem were glowing, purple energy flowing between the two crowns.
‘We have to get in there,’ Zelia said, as Grunt continued to pummel the door.
‘We will,’ Amity said, ordering the servitor to move aside. The rogue trader had Eighty-Seven’s arc rifle in hand, the sleek barrel pointing towards the door. She fired, bolts of electric blue reducing the rusty barricade to dust.
The captain strode into the Cognis chamber, aiming at Corlak.
‘Shut it down!’ she commanded as Zelia and Mekki rushed to Talen. The Diadem had stopped glowing and the boy’s head lolled awkwardly forward, his chin resting on his chest. The inquisitor was slumped in the other chair, hair falling out and eyes swollen shut.
‘You are too late,’ Corlak rejoiced. ‘The procedure is complete.’
‘No!’ Zelia said, shaking Talen’s shoulders. ‘Talen, can you hear me?’
‘Zelia?’ he croaked, his voice little more than a whisper.
‘Yes. Yes, it is me. Let’s get you out of here.’ She struggled with the restraints. ‘Mekki, can you help me?’
The Martian hurried towards Corlak, who produced its own beamer.
‘I wouldn’t,’ Amity warned, her finger tightening around the trigger.
The servo-skull floated aside and Mekki found the right control. The restraints snapped open and Talen tumbled forward, the Diadem still tight around his head. He sprawled across the floor, landing at Amity’s feet.
‘Is he all right?’
Zelia knelt beside him. ‘You are, aren’t you, Talen?’
He tried to turn over. ‘I need to get up.’
‘I’ll help,’ she said, hooking her hands beneath his arms. ‘That’s it.’
She got him to his feet. He leant on her, clutching his head.
‘Talen?’
‘I’ll… I’ll be all right in a moment… I just need… to think…’
‘Think about what?’
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Zelia looked up. Something was hammering on the front door, the sluggish rhythm accompanied by a chorus of muffled groans.
‘Plague zombies,’ Amity hissed. ‘They must have got past Fleapit. We need to get out of here.’
‘We can use the teleporter,’ Mekki said. ‘Teleport ourselves back to the inquisitor’s ship. If I can connect the console to the Zealot’s Heart…’
‘No, don’t,’ Zelia said. ‘You’ll infect our only means of escape.’ She turned to Amity. ‘Unless we can use the Profiteer?’
The rogue trader shook her head. ‘If only. We only just made it to Aparitus. Your sick friend over there fired at us the moment he arrived on Weald. We didn’t stand a chance, especially after the crash.’
‘I said that the battle-footage was doctored!’ Mekki said.
‘Now isn’t the time for told-you-sos,’ Zelia said as rust started to spread across the outer door. ‘Corlak, you need to teleport us to safety.’
‘I only answer to the inquisitor,’ the servo-skull said.
‘Then answer to me now,’ Talen said, throwing himself at Amity. The attack took everyone by surprise, especially the captain, who was slammed against the wall. Grunt raised a hammer to protect his mistress, but Talen turned on his heel, the arc rifle in his hands.
‘I wouldn’t, you senseless brute,’ he said, stepping back so he could cover all of them with the stolen weapon.
‘Talen, what are you doing?’ Zelia asked.
Talen brought the gun around to face her. ‘Not Talen… Jeremias.’
‘Sire?’ Corlak asked, its tentacles quivering.
‘The procedure was a success,’ Talen announced, his voice noticeably lower than before. He sounded like Jeremias.
In the next room, the door opened a fraction, blistered fingers appearing through the crack.
Talen glanced into the workshop. ‘They’re breaking through. Corlak, prepare the teleport.’
The servo-skull bobbed smugly. ‘Gladly, sire.’
‘All of us.’
Suddenly Corlak didn’t sound so sure. ‘Including the heretics, master?’
Talen smirked. ‘I think it’s about time Captain Amity and her cronies were brought to justice. We’ll send them to the work camps of Marell, the servitor included. They will see out their days making ammunition for the Imperial Guard.’
‘You can’t do that, Talen,’ Zelia pleaded.
The boy sighed in annoyance. ‘How many times have I got to tell you, girl? Your friend is trapped in that festering heap over there.’ He nodded at the inquisitor’s bloated body, still slumped in its restraints. ‘The choice is yours. I leave you for the zombies, or deliver you to Marell. Which is it to be?’
Zelia fell silent. What choice was there?
‘I thought so. Ready, Corlak?’
‘Ready, sire.’
With a pitiful moan, the inquisitor’s old body began to thrash in its chair.
The boy who used to be Talen smirked at the pathetic creature. ‘Say goodbye to your friends. We’re going on a journey, a very long journey. Now, Corlak.’
The teleport’s hum filled the room as the outer door disintegrated under the weight of the plague zombies. They streamed into the workshop as the inquisitor’s former body raged ineffectively in its chair.
Zelia closed her eyes as the nauseating energy of the teleporter washed over her, the buzz drowning out the groans of the infected horde and the dismay of the friend they were leaving behind.
When she opened them again, they were back on the Zealot’s Heart.
‘Excellent work, Corlak,’ the servo-skull’s master said as it swept towards the flight controls.
‘Shall I set course for Marell, sire?’
‘Actually,’ he replied, lifting the arc rifle, ‘I’ve changed my mind.’
The servo-skull exploded as it was hit by a bolt of crackling energy.
‘There, that’s better.’
Zelia stared at him, for once lost for words. Had the inquisitor lost his mind?
He looked at her and grinned. ‘What’s the matter, Ladle-Girl? Don’t tell me you fell for it, too?’
Ladle-Girl? But that’s what Talen had called her when they first met…
‘The procedure didn’t work!’ she gasped. ‘You’re still you!’
‘Course I am,’ Talen said, throwing the rifle back to Amity. ‘Sorry about the shove back there. I had to make Corlak believe I was the real deal.’
‘So it was all an act?’ Mekki asked.
‘A convincing one,’ Amity said, shoving the rifle into Zelia’s hands and making for the flight controls. ‘This is some ship.’ She slipped into the flight chair as if she belonged there, priming the engines with a flourish.
‘Are we going somewhere?’ Zelia asked, passing the gun to Grunt.
‘Back to the workshop,’ Amity told her, pulling back on the flight stick. ‘The long way round.’
Once upon a time, Flegan-Pala would have enjoyed sitting in a Tau battlesuit, blasting zombies. He would have enjoyed blasting anything, to be honest.
But now… now, he was worried. Not about himself… but those foolish younglings. He hadn’t been able to stop the zombies fighting their way into the building and was now pinned down by hundreds if not thousands of those Nurgling creatures desperate to break into the suit. To make matters worse, the suit’s joints had rusted solid as it succumbed to the plague that blighted this world.
The servo-sprites were all gone, swatted from the air by Nurgle-controlled mechadendrites or ground beneath blistered feet.
He was alone. Just as he’d always been.
He mashed the triggers one last time. The pulse-cannon didn’t respond. He tried again, but the guns were jammed.
There was only one thing for it. Twisting open the control panel, he pulled out a handful of wires. The armour’s power pack was still operational. Perhaps he could convert it into a bomb. He could jump clear and… BOOM!
Flegan-Pala chuckled at the thought of the explosion, but his simian features fell as the powercell failed a second later.
The armour toppled over, landing face down. Claws scraped against the bodywork, teeth crunching the corroded metal.
There was no way out. He was trapped.
Then, the roar of a voidship made him smile, as did the percussive rattle of las-fire. Zombies wailed and Nurglings popped as Flegan-Pala’s smile became a toothy grin, teleportation energy crackling across his fur…
‘We have him,’ Mekki cried out as Fleapit materialised on the teleport pad.
‘Then it’s time to go,’ Amity said, pointing the Zealot’s Heart towards the sky. The inquisitor’s ship streaked into the heavy clouds, leaving hundreds of zombies gnashing their rotten teeth far below.
Soon they were back among the stars. Amity turned to see Talen standing awkwardly behind her. She nodded at the co-pilot seat.
‘Want to pick up where we left off?’
He rubbed his neck. ‘I’m sorry.’
She frowned at him. ‘What for?’
‘For believing Jeremias’s lies. About you.’
She smiled, winking at him. ‘Nobody will blame you. I am pretty shady.’
Talen blushed just before Zelia threw her arms around him, catching him in a bear hug.
‘Get off!’ he laughed, pushing her away. ‘What brought that on?’
‘You saved us,’ Zelia said. ‘Thank the Throne the mind-swap didn’t work.’
‘The Throne had nothing to do with it,’ Mekki said, plucking the Diadem from Talen’s head with his good hand. He peered at the artefact, a lens dropping down in front of his eye. ‘As I thought. This is a fake.’
‘A fake?’ Zelia turned to look at Fleapit, who was smiling slyly. As they watched, the Jokaero opened his dimension pack and retrieved the real Diadem of Transference.
The alien grunted, Mekki translating for the rest of the group. ‘Flegan-Pala created a duplicate. He guessed that the inquisitor was after the Diadem, just as he guessed that it was not really me who sent the transmission.’
‘How?’ Talen asked, and in answer Mekki played back a recording of Quigox pretending to be him.
‘Fleapit, this is Mekki. Can you hear me? Fleapit, come in!’
Talen still looked none the wiser.
‘You need to listen more,’ Zelia said, smiling as she saw his eyes widen.
‘Mekki never calls him “Fleapit”!’ he finally realised. ‘How could I have been so stupid?’
‘Do you really want me to answer that?’ Mekki said, the ghost of a smile on his thin lips.
Talen grinned back at him. ‘Watch it, Cog-Boy!’ He looked around the austere flight deck. ‘So what do we do now? Sure, we’ve got a new ship, but that doesn’t help all those people down there.’
He was right. There was no telling how many Aparitians had fallen foul of the plague.
Amity sighed, staring at the planet below. ‘There isn’t much we can do, unfortunately. Once a plague has taken hold…’
‘We can’t just leave them,’ Zelia said.
‘And we can’t fight a contagion of that magnitude.’
‘We could tell someone about it,’ Talen suggested. ‘Ask for help.’
‘We already have,’ Mekki said from where he had been working controls, the Diadem resting on the console next to him. ‘Or rather, the inquisitor has. I sent a distress call from his cogitator using his ident codes. The Space Marines will come.’
‘And what happens when they don’t find him waiting?’
Mekki shrugged. ‘They will think he succumbed to the plague, which is true. At least this way, they might be able to save others, while we get this into the right hands.’ He picked up the Diadem and passed it to Zelia.
‘The right hands?’ she said, taking it. ‘You mean… my mum?’
Amity checked the navigational cogitator. ‘Why not? I need to meet this woman.’
‘But we still don’t know where she is.’
‘Sure we do,’ Talen said. ‘The Emperor’s Seat. Just like she told us.’
‘And there is only one place we have left to search,’ Mekki said. ‘The planet Pastoria.’
‘If it even exists,’ Zelia pointed out.
Talen snorted, slipping into the co-pilot’s seat. ‘A minor detail. I vote we keep looking.’
‘Me too,’ Mekki agreed.
Zelia smiled. ‘And me.’
‘Then that is what we shall do,’ Amity said, pulling back on a lever. ‘You know, I missed having a crew…’
TO BE CONCLUDED IN
TOMB OF THE NECRON