[61]

Week of 317.738.M41

Three weeks later, most of the bruises had faded. We could all walk almost normally.

Hana and I were well enough to be permitted back onto light work details and the daily morning rituals of donning armor, although we could do only the absolute lightest of training, like reloading and malfunction drills. And Hana was permitted to fire her weapon at the practice range, although I had to make do with cross-training on a laspistol because of my collarbone.

Tara was different. Her bones and tissues were recovering almost as fast as ours, except for her arms, where the poison had done so much work. But the weakness, the lack of stamina, and the tremors remained. The tremors hadn't reduced at all in the last two weeks. She needed her arm braces to do anything. She couldn't put on power-armor by herself. She couldn't reload a weapon without a brace. Even trying with the braces and a lascarbine, she couldn't hit a man-sized target farther away than twenty meters.

Palatine Elin was willing to wait a full year. She said, "Miracles happen. Tara may recover." But the tone of her voice meant that in her mind, she had already started to say goodbye.

The next morning, day 318, after donning armor, Hana and I trained together with Sacra and Ethel, who had been hit with shard weapons but received rapid treatment; and with Eulalia, whose augmentic legs were attached, now, but who still had to wait for the traumatized body they were connected to to recover. Sacra was oldest by three years, at twenty-five, and she was in command of our little fireteam of invalids. She had us drilling on the antiaircraft guns, which was fun at first, but Sacra didn't understand how limited Hana and I still were. When it started to hurt me, I told Hana to stop. We made the weapon safe.

Sacra said, "Marisa, is there a problem with the gun?"

"No. Just us. We can't do this yet."

"I did not give permission to cease."

"I am sorry to defy you, Sacra. But we are already commanded to rest. You cannot lift that order from us."

She shook her head and made a huffing sound. She banished us to the wall to sit and do nothing while we watched Ethel and Eulalia drill on the gun, but she didn't actually say it was a punishment, so there was no prohibition against conversation.

I had noticed earlier that Hana had gotten rid of the forty-centimeter bayonet that she had carried since I had met her. It is supposed to be part of our standard issue, but everyone in the Order replaces it with the basic Army G-3 combat knife, which is better in every practical way: half the length, a third the weight, more durable for prying, easier to use effectively as a tool, easier to use as a weapon against humans and Eldar, and it doesn't bang on your leg when you sprint.

If for some reason you need to turn your bolter into the galaxy's most awkward short spear… or if you've decided to brawl with a 600-kilogram Ork… then the bayonet is better.

I'm sure the reason why Hana had carried the bayonet is just to stand out, since otherwise there is little to make us different from each other once the visors go down. Now she had the G-3, like me and everyone else.

"Hmm? No bayonet?" I said. I kept my voice quiet even though nobody would be hearing us over the sound of the turret grinding around or the high-energy snarl of the quad-multilaser when they were authorized to test-fire.

"I returned it."

I smiled. "Poor bayonet! Your armor has exciting scars, now, and now you don't need it anymore?" I was sure that was it and I wanted to rub it in a little, just between friends.

"No," she said. "I just wanted to have what you all had."

I felt my shoulders droop. It felt unfair that she could use sincerity and respect as a defense against my teasing. But she shook her head and said, "No… that's not really it. I wanted to have what Verity had."

That made my smile mostly slip away, although a little bit remained. I put an arm around Hana and gave her an awkward half of a hug. Armor clicked together. Power-armor is not made for comforting gestures.

We watched Ethel and Eulalia work the turret for a few minutes.

When there was a chance, I asked Sacra for permission to take Hana to the armory. Maybe she felt bad about being cross with me, earlier, because she didn't question it or deny permission. She just said, "Go."

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We arrived. We waited for the armorer to finish working on a ledger. She was a retired Guardsman named Rin, who had been born under a distant star and had fought the Orks on Gaervalt sixteen years ago.

"Rin," I said. "Do you have the knife that was returned from Verity Cade?"

"Probably. You know they aren't numbered."

"I know. It would have a chip missing from the hand guard. It caught a piece of shrapnel once. She was going to get a new one but kept forgetting."

She came back a few minutes later with a knife that looked right.

"Hana, do you want it?" I said.

She reached out for it like it was a legendary relic. Maybe it was. Maybe in twenty years, Hana will be Palatine Hana, and there will be scraps of this weapon in a gilded box, the G-3 combat knife that saved the sector.

To me it was a piece of mass-produced metal, stamped and sharpened and issued by the million. It was the third weapon exactly like it that Verity had carried. One was used to wedge a door shut and fused in place with a dot of melta-gel when she was clearing an asteroid station. One got lost in a stupid knife-throwing competition and required an act of penance from all of us involved. This was number three.

I said, "Swear you'll treat it like a disposable piece of metal. If you die because you didn't want to lose your magic knife, I'll ink a mustache on your skull."

She said, "I swear," like it was a solemn oath about a legendary relic, and slotted the knife into its sheath.

❖ ❖ ❖

​

Tara didn't come to a realization all at once, and there wasn't one dramatic moment. It happened in little pieces made of ten thousand little failures. When she told me on day 321, it was calm and reasonable and told with a smile, even though it was the end of everything she knew, the whole purpose she thought the Emperor had given her for her time on this side of the Veil of Worlds.

It was 20:20. Since I wasn't her commander anymore, we shouldn't really have been talking at that time of night. But it was right, anyway. The hour is given to reflection, confession, and guidance, and this was that.

She said, "Do you know Novice Rosa?"

"Yes. She was training on your armor."

She nodded. "We're the same size. She's good. Almost ready for full vows."

"Yes," I said. My throat was tight and my chest hurt. I knew where it was going and I wanted to stop it but there wasn't anything to stop.

"I want her to have it. I won't need it anymore."

Somehow it was me who was fighting back tears, not my friend. I made myself lean forward a little and smile. I put my hands on her shoulders. I stroked her hair.

"I think that's probably right," I said. "Have you thought about what you will do?"

"I don't know. I can still help. Elin won't throw me out in the rain." She smiled.

I laughed a little. "You don't have to hurry. We'll piece it together. Um. Together."

We thought about cooking and cleaning and tending the garden, and whether she could learn those things well enough around her tremors and the slowness forced on her by her damaged heart, but it was the hour for reflection, confession, and guidance, not planning, so we stopped before we got anywhere. We went to the chapel and chanted our request for intercessory prayer according to the old rite:

Sancta Dominica, ora pro me.

Sancta Lucia, ora pro me.

Sancta Arabella, ora pro me.

Sancta Katarina, ora pro me.

Sancta Mina, ora pro me.

Sancta Silvana, ora pro me.

Omnes Sanctae Sorores Martyres, orate pro me.

I slipped in a wordless "Gwen, ora pro me; Verity, ora pro me" at the end, which isn't in the rite, and isn't fair to all the others who have died, and may be a prayer with no recipient. Usually I think the Dekantists are right and only the true Saints retain independent selfhood after joining the Emperor in death, while the rest of us become silent participants in His eternal will. But I didn't call them sancta or beata, so it wasn't a sin, just hope expressed as prayer.

❖ ❖ ❖

​

On day 324, Palatine Elin informed us that you had been sent to us, to Gaervalt. Another Inquisitor, coming from the Mavauk sector to continue Grendel's work. The Interrogator told Elin that you were a former colleague of Grendel. She said your missive had expressed particular interest in me.