Nemesis

“Of course they are,” said the man. He nodded towards the youth. “We even have

picts of the firing squads.” He paused. “Your entire resistance network—”

“Such as it is,” said the youth, with an arch sniff.

“Your network is on the verge of collapse,” continued the other man. “Capra and

his trusted core of freedom fighters are the only things holding it together. And the

nobles know that all they really need to do is wait.” He walked down the line of

them. “Just wait, until you run out of supplies, of ammunition. Of hope. You’re all

exhausted, pushed beyond your limits. Hungry and tired. None of you want to say it,

but you all know it’s true. You’ve already lost, you just can’t admit it.”

That was enough for Grohl to break his own rules. “Go screw yourself, clanner

bastard!”

The man raised an eyebrow. “We’re not… clanners, is it? We are not in the

employ of the nobles.” He leaned down and pulled something from the neck of his

armour; an identity disc on a chain. “We serve a different master.”

Beye immediately recognised the shape of an Imperial sigil-tag, a bio-active

recognition device gene-keyed to its wearer. An etching of the two-headed aquila

glittered there on its surface. It could not be forged, duplicated or removed from the

person of its user without becoming useless. Anyone wearing such a tag was a soldier

in service to the Emperor of Mankind.

“Who are you?” Pasri was wary.

The man indicated himself. “Kell. These are Tariel and… Soalm. We are agents

of the Imperium and the authority of Terra.”

“Why tell us your names?” hissed Grohl. “Unless you’re going to kill us?”

“Consider it a gesture of trust,” said the pale woman. “We already know who you

are. And in all honesty, knowing what to call us hardly makes you a threat.”

Beye leaned forward. “Why are you here?”

Kell nodded to Tariel, and the youth produced a mollyknife. He moved to where

Pasri was sitting and cut her loose, then proceeded to do the same with Grohl.

“We have been sent by the Emperor’s command to aid the planet Dagonet and its

people in this time of crisis.” Beye was certain that she saw a loaded look pass

between Soalm and Kell before the man spoke again. “We are here to help you

oppose the insurrection of Horus Lupercal and anyone who takes his side.”

Grohl rubbed at his wrists. “So, of course you would like us to take you to the

secret retreat of the resistance. Introduce you personally to Capra. Open ourselves up

so you can murder us all in one fell swoop?” He turned his head and spat. “We’re not

fools or traitors.”

Tariel cut Beye loose and offered a hand to help her to her feet, but she refused.

Instead, he gave her a data-slate. “You know how to read these, correct? Your file

says that you served the Administratum as a datum clerk in the office of colonial

affairs, prior to the insurrection.”

“That’s right,” she said.

134

Tariel indicated a text file in the slate’s memory. “I think you’ll want to look at

this document. And please check the security tags so you are sure it has not been

tampered with.”

Kell walked closer to Grohl. “I believe you when you say you’re not a traitor,

Terrik Grohl. But you have been fooled.”

“What in Stars’ name are you talking about?” snarled the other man.

“Because there is a traitor in this room,” Kell went on; and then faster than

Beye’s eye could follow, the Imperial agent’s hand flicked up from his belt with the

blocky, lethal-looking pistol in its grip, and he shot Pasri dead through the heart at

point-blank range.

Beye let out a cry of shock as Grohl started forward.

Tariel tapped the slate. “Read the file,” he repeated.

“And then search your good friend Olo,” added Soalm.

Grohl did that as Beye read on. By the time she had finished, the colour had

drained from her cheeks, and Grohl had discovered the wireless listening device

concealed on the other woman. The files, as Tariel said, unaltered from their original

form, were reports from the clanners about an informant in the resistance. Capra had

suspected they had a leak for some time, but he hadn’t been able to discover who.

According to the last entry, Olo Pasri had agreed to give up the location of the main

freedom fighter safe zone, but was stalling for a larger finder’s fee and the guarantee

of passage off-world.

All of this she told to Grohl, who listened with a stony, rigid expression. After a

long moment, he spoke. “I don’t trust you,” he said to Kell. “Even this, you could

have faked it. Did it all just to get close to us.”

“Grohl—” Beye began, but Kell held up a hand, silencing her.

“No, he’s right. Given time and effort, we could have engineered something like

this. And if I were in your place, I would share your suspicions.” He paused again,

thinking. “So, then. We need to earn your trust.”

“A demonstration,” suggested Soalm.

Kell nodded. “Give us a target.”