Nemesis

Soalm’s lips thinned. ‘This would be the bite of a gnat to the Warmaster.’ She gave Tariel a look. ‘I will prepare my own weapons.’

‘There’s also this,’ offered the Vanus, passing her a pistol. The weapon was a spindly collection of brass pipes with a crystalline bulb where a normal firearm might have had an ammunition magazine. Soalm took it and peered at the mesh grille where the muzzle should have been.

‘A bact-gun,’ she said, weighing it in her hand. ‘This may be useful.’

‘The dispersal can be set from a fine mist to a gel-plug round,’ noted Tariel.

‘Are you certain you know how to use that?’ said Kell.

Soalm’s arm snapped up into aiming position, the barrel of the weapon pointed directly at the Vindicare’s face. ‘I think I can recall,’ she said. Then she wandered away, turning the pistol over in her delicate, pale hands.

Meanwhile, Koyne had discovered a case that was totally out of place among all the others. It resembled a whorled shell more than anything else, and the only mechanism to unlock it was the sketch of a handprint etched into the bony matter of the latch – a handprint of three overlong digits and a dual thumb.

‘I have no idea what that may be,’ Tariel admitted. ‘The container, I mean, it looks almost as if it is–’

‘Xenos?’ said Koyne, with deceptive lightness. ‘But that would be prohibited, Vanus. Perish the thought.’ There was a quiet cracking sound as the Callidus’s right hand stretched and shifted in shape, the human digits reformed and merging until they became something more approximate to the alien handprint. Koyne pressed home on the case and it sighed open, drooling droplets of purple liquid on to the decking. Inside the container, the organic look was even more disturbing; on a bed of fleshy material wet with more of the liquid rested a weapon made of blackened, tooth-like ceramics. It was large and off-balance in shape, the front of it grasping a faceted teardrop crystal the sea-green colour of ancient jade.

‘What is it?’ Tariel asked, his disgust evident.

‘In my clade it has many names,’ said Koyne. ‘It rips open minds, tears intellect and thought to shreds. Those it touches remain empty husks.’ The Callidus held it out to the Vanus, who backed away. ‘Do you wish to take a closer look?’

‘Not in this lifetime,’ Tariel insisted.

A pale tongue flickered out and licked Koyne’s lips as the assassin returned the weapon to the shell. Gathering it up, the Callidus bowed to the others. ‘I will take my leave of you.’

As Koyne left, Kell glanced back at the Vanus. ‘What about you? Or do those of your clade choose not to carry a weapon?’

Tariel shook his head, colour returning to his cheeks. ‘I have weapons of my own, just not as obvious as yours. An electropulse projector, built into my cogitator gauntlet. And I have my menagerie. The psyber eagles, the eyerats and netfly swarms.’

Kell thought of the pods he had seen elsewhere aboard the Ultio, where Tariel’s cybernetically-modified rodents and preybirds and other animals slept out the voyage in dormancy, waiting for his word of command to awaken them. ‘Those things won’t keep you alive.’

The Vanus shook his head. ‘Ah, believe me, I will make sure that nothing ever gets close enough to kill me.’ He sighed. ‘And in that vein… There are also weapons for you.’

‘My weapon was lost,’ Kell said, with no little venom. ‘Thanks to the Eversor.’

‘It has been renewed,’ said Tariel, opening a lengthy box. ‘See.’

Every Vindicare used a longrifle that was uniquely configured for their biomass, shooting style, body kinestics, even tailored to work with the rhythm in which they breathed. When the Garantine had smashed Kell’s weapon into pieces out in the Aktick snows, it was like he had lost a part of himself; but there inside the case was a sniper rifle that resembled the very gun that had been his constant companion for years – resembled it, but also transcended it. ‘Exitus,’ he breathed, stooping to run a hand over the flat, non-reflective surface of the barrel.

Tariel indicated the individual components of the weapon. ‘Spectroscopic polyimager scope. Carousel ammunition loader. Nitrogen coolant sheath. Whisperhead suppressor unit. Gyroscopic balance stabiliser.’ He paused. ‘As much of your original weapon as possible was salvaged and reused in this one.’

Kell nodded. He saw that the grip and part of the cheek-plate were worn in a way that no newly-forged firearm could have been. As well as the longrifle, a pistol of similar design lay next to it on the velvet bedding of the weapon case. Lined up along the lid of the container were row after row of individual bullets, arranged in colour-coded groups. ‘Impressive. But I’ll need to sight it in.’

‘We’ll doubtless all have many opportunities to employ our skills before Horus shows his face,’ said Soalm. She hadn’t left the room, but stood off to one side as the sniper and the infocyte talked.

‘We will do what we have to,’ Kell replied, without looking at her.

‘Even if we destroy ourselves doing it,’ his sister replied.