III.

The door to the infirmary slid open with an audible k-thunk. It was testament to how engrossed that Eliza was in her research – she didn’t even notice. Her face was all but buried in the dataslate, poring over this “Eremos” and the suspected troves of archaeotech that laid within. Sitting up was still painful, so the Inquisitor was slouched over so dramatically in her cot that she was practically bent double.

“I’m not Malleus, you know.”

Eliza let out a squeak, tossing the dataslate from her hands – caught a moment later by a servo-skull that zipped into the room, chirping excitedly. Depositing the slate on the cot, it hurriedly flew over to Eliza, bumping her softly as it continued to warble.

“Not so hard, Spooky,” She grunted, but her voice was warm. “I’m alright, don’t worry. Who brought you-?”

The figure that stepped into the room was short, thin, and cloaked. A force sword hung at their hip, an Inquisitorial Rosette hanging from the scabbard. Dark hair, dark eyes – entirely black, strangely enough. The air chilled for a brief moment as an involuntary shudder went through the recovering Inquisitor – the telltale sign of a Psyker.

“You referred to me as being of Ordo Malleus,” Inquisitor Cato stated, as if they’d been in the room when Eliza had said it. “It’s Hereticus. Slaying daemons is one thing, knowing them is outside my expertise.”

The greeting fell out of Eliza’s mouth as her head tilted. Spooky turned to regard both of them, tilting himself in kind, then looked back to his bed-ridden master. Even as a skull, his expression read as if he’d said “What, you didn’t know?” out loud.

“… And here I was worried about Jertik and Asphodel putting me on the pyre,” Eliza sighed. “Hello, Cato. You weren’t here with Lux-”

“-and the Veilwalker,” Cato finished. “No, you had your hands full as it was. Inquisitor Lux hasn’t changed, has she?”

There was a ghost of a smile there, and Eliza mirrored it as she nodded. “Foulmouthed and foul-tempered. It was like being back in the Asphodine system.”

Just as quickly as it arrived, the vague attempt at a smile faded, and Cato’s expression grew stony once more. “You are aware, of course, that given the mysterious circumstances of how Inquisitor Lux found you, that you must be screened?”

She nodded again, more warily this time. “… Of course, Inquisitor. It’d be remiss for a Hereticus agent to be onsite and not report their findings. I assume you were listening when I spoke to Lux and E’lara?”

Cato nodded once.

“Then you’ll recall that my memory’s a bit hazy on what happened.”

Cato nodded again, striding forwards. Black, featureless eyes almost seemed to pin Eliza in place, and she fought back a shiver.

“You mentioned Necrons on the moon, ones we did not find. Why did you go there, Horncastle?”

Eliza furrowed her brow, drumming her fingers idly on the sides of her dataslate as she tried to recall. Only flashes responded – a tomb complex, alive with activity and the strange green energy that seemed to permeate any site of note for the Necrons. The heavy tromp of necroform constructs’ feet. Lychguard, arrayed around-

She shook her head quickly, trying to fight a sudden spell of dizziness.

“I don’t remember much…” She murmured, glowing eyes staring into the middle distance. “Only that it was imperative that I went there. Vital. I… Throne, I wish I could remember.”

Cato’s brow furrowed, and one hand began to drum idly on the pommel of their sheathed force-blade. It was a gesture that did not comfort Inquisitor Horncastle.

“Memory damage,” Cato mused. “Very well, I’ll have to perform a mind probe.”

“Really, Cato?” Eliza protested. “Is this necessary?”

“If I do not screen you, someone far less understanding from my Ordo will.” The tone of Cato’s warning was final, but again was the ghost of a smile there. “Besides, not the first time I’ve been in your head.”

With little more to do to protest, Eliza relented with a shrug and a nod.

Cato’s eyes drifted closed, and the room seemed to cool suddenly, as if a winter breeze had somehow blown through the ship’s infirmary. There was an oily tang in the air, and Eliza’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth. She resisted the urge to cough. Overhead, lumen-strips flickered with the psychic phenomena.

Just as she was about to ask when Cato would begin, she felt it. A sudden, sharp bloom of pain behind her eyes that sent the Inquisitor back into her bed, gritting her teeth against it. When Cato performed a psychic probe, it felt like they were reaching into their target’s head, rummaging a hand about in their grey matter. It reminded Eliza of something, something rather recent, a chittering, buzzing and pain unlike anything she’d ever felt – along with a voice –

She retched. It felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her skull. She faintly heard Spooky let out a sharp whine of alarm.

Cato’s eyes were still closed, lids fluttering as they rifled their fellow Inquisitor’s mind for memories. Veins were beginning to stand out against their pale skin, and the hand resting on the pommel of their force sword raised, held out before them with fingers splayed, occasionally curling with effort as they gave form to their power.

“… Tomb-Complex,” They murmured. “Novokh. Nephthys. Phaerakh. Mindshackle-?”

Eliza’s knuckles turned white, gripping the sides of her bed. She thrashed, casting the sheets to one side as she fought back a howl of pain. Blood was beginning to run freely from her nose.

“Implement.”

They both said it at the same time, and with that Cato let the mind-probe drop. Eliza all but collapsed into her bed, and Cato’s stance sunk. Both of them paused for a long moment, panting.

Spooky warbled mournfully, nudging Eliza with his forehead. The little servo-skull’s scanning lights lit up as they played beams over his master, and Inquisitor Cato, in turn. Grunting with effort, Eliza reached up to place a reassuring hand onto Spooky. The little skull trilled happily in turn, and puttered over to a nearby table to begin the work of finding mugs – or anything one could drink from.

Cato’s eyes opened, regarding Inquisitor Horncastle warily. Again, their hand drifted to the hilt of their force sword.

“You saw?” Eliza ventured the question.

“I did,” Cato confirmed, still panting. “You were compromised, Horncastle.”

“Were,” Eliza clarified, propping herself up on her elbows. “Implying no longer.”

Cato shook their head, recovering their stance a touch. “I’m not sure. Something was strange with the memories. It was as if they were veiled, covered over. Like they were bleeding in from another place, or…” Cato squinted, and drew closer. “Your Tachyon Arrow Projector. You used it?”

“My-” Eliza paused, then glanced down at her augmetic arm. Responding to the question, the neural links in her mind flared to life, throwing a display up behind her eyes. It helpfully pointed out that in fact, her Tachyon Arrow Projector was empty. “I did.”

“‘You might want to stand back. If this thing misfires, it stands a chance of erasing us from time. All of it, forwards and back.’”

Cato was quoting Eliza, from the last time she had used the weapon. Their expression was a touch puzzled – as much as the inscrutable Hereticus Inquisitor could look puzzled, in any case.

“Temporal disruption?” Eliza guessed. Cato nodded, pensive.

“Be that as it may, you were compromised. Almost made into an agent of the Necrons. Even if you did escape, it’s a risk. This sector’s already unstable without a rogue Inquisitor-”

“-I’m no heretic,” Eliza insisted, trying to rise as she pushed herself up on shaky arms. She scowled. “You know that, Cato. We’ve worked together, for Throne’s sake!”

“Asphodine was years ago, Horncastle. I’ve apprehended – killed Inquisitors for less than this since, and you know it.” Cato drew themself to their full height. If Eliza wasn’t certain that they were an agent of the Ordo Hereticus before, they were now.

“Why shouldn’t I drag you to a conclave in chains? Report you to Lady Allenbrisk? Explain it to me.”

Eliza met Cato’s darkened stare with their own glowing green one, level. Their own expression set in a determined stare.

“Because there’s bigger problems out there, Cato. We both know it. Because if we waste time squabbling among ourselves, thousands – millions – even billions of people go to their deaths. For nothing.”

Eliza leaned forwards, gesturing to the dataslate she’d deposited by her legs.

“Because you’re no stranger to unorthodoxy yourself, and you understand that if we’re to do our jobs – to really do them and guard the realms of humanity, then we need to do what none others should. And most of all? You know that I do not do that lightly. So arrest me if you must, send me to the pyres. But know that everything I have done, I have done for the good of the Imperium and its people.”

Cato’s black eyes bored into Inquisitor Horncastle for another long moment that stretched into minutes. Eliza felt sweat trickle down her neck.

But they relented, nodding ever so slightly as their hand dropped from the pommel of their blade once more. Something softened ever so slightly in the Hereticus Inquisitor’s face. It almost looked like pity.

“Do not make me regret this, Horncastle.”

Without another word, they turned and stalked from the room.