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It was a grim place of dirty bare metal and lifting gear。 Two battered prospector pods sat in berthing bays； and in the gloom at the far
end was a cargo shuttle that had seen better days。
The barn doors closed behind us； and flashing hazard lamps in the berthing dock moved from amber to green as the atmosphere was
cycled back in。 Apart from the servitors； there was no sign of life。
'Cutter's systems show green on outside conditions；' said Medea； swinging out of her seat。
'Are we ready？' I asked。
'Sure；' said Medea。 She had switched her regular Glavian pilot's gear； with its distinctive cerise jacket； for a much more anonymous set
of grubby flight overalls。 Heavy； tan and baggy； they were actually the quilted liner of an armoured void…suit。 The surface was covered
in eyelets； laces and stud…connectors where the armour segments would lock on and there were umbilical sockets in the chest。 Medea
had removed the helmet ring and allowed the heavy collar to hang open。 She wore workgloves and steel…capped military boots； and
tucked her hair up under a billed cap with the Imperial eagle on the front。
Aemos had adjusted the hydraulic settings of his augmetic exo…skeleton to hold him in the stiffest； most upright stance possible。 Witb
a long tunic…cloak of black bagheera； a white skull cap and an engraved data…cane； he looked every centimetre a distinguished scholam
academic。
I lacked any trace of my usual inquisitorial garb。 I wore learner breeches and high； buckled boots； an old flak…armour jerkin with dirty
ceramite over…plates； and a full…face filter mask with tinted eyeslits that resembled nothing so much as a snarling skull。 Nayl had lent
me a motion tracker unit from his personal kit； which I had strapped over my right shoulder； and a heavy； snub…nosed laspistol that
hung in an armpit rig under my jerkin。 A combat shotgun rested in a scabbard between my shoulder blades； and I had a belt of shells
for it around my waist。 I looked and felt like hired thug…muscle… which was precisely the point。
Medea popped the hatch and we descended into the barn。
It was cold； and the air was parched from too many automatic scrubbings。 Odd mechanical noises sounded sporadically in the
distance。 Squat； short…base servitors were busy tinkering with the old shuttle's exposed engine…guts。
We clanged up the grille stairs to the interior hatch。 It was marked with a bas…relief symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus； and an
enamelled sign below it announced that the tech…priesthood was the supreme authority at Cinchare Minehead。
The heavy hatch whirred back into its wall…slot revealing a gloomy prep…tunnel lined with empty void…suits that swung on their hooks
in the breeze。 Beyond that； there was a dank scrub…room； a darkened office with a padlock on the door； and an empty survey suite with
a deactivated chart table。
'Where is everybody？' Medea asked。
WE FOLLOWED THE echoing hallways through the complex。 Grubby mining equipment was scattered or piled in corners。 A small firstaid
station had been stripped of surgical equipment and stacked with crates of pickled fish。 A side room was empty except for
hundreds of broken wine bottles。 A disused walk…in freezer store exuded the stink of spoiled meat mrough its open door。 Water
spattered from the dark； lofty ceilings of some vaults。 Chains swung from overhead hoists。 Cold； dry breezes gusted down the halls。
When the wall…speakers boomed； we all started。
'Allied Imperial Minerals！ Duty rotation in fifteen minutes！'
The voice was an automatic recording。 Nothing stirred in response。
'This is most perturbatory；' murmured Aemos。 According to Imperial records； Cinchare Minehead is an active concern。 Allied Imperial
has a workforce of nineteen hundred running their deep…cast mines； and Ortog Promethium another seven hundred at their gypnate
quarries。 Not to mention independent prospectors； ancilliary service workers； security and the personnel of the Adeptus。 Minehead is
meant to have a population of nearly three thousand。'
We had reached a main concourse； a wide thoroughfare lit by overhead lamps； many of which were smashed。 Abandoned merchant
shops and bars lined either side。
'Let's look around；' I said。 We fanned out。 I walked to the north end of the trash…littered concourse and found steps leading down into a
wide plaza full of more empty shops and businesses。
I heard the whine of an electric motor from down to the left； and followed it。 Round the corner of a boarded…up canteen； a fat…tyred
open buggy was pulled up outside the unkempt entrance of a claims registry。 I went inside。 The floor was covered in spilled；
yellowing papers and dented data…slates。 A snowdrift of used and mouldering ration cartons filled a side door into a filing room。
Nayl's motion detector clicked and whirred。 It projected its display on the inside of my mask's right lens。 Motion； the rear office； eight
metres。
I edged to the door and peered in； my hand on the grip of the holstered las。
A long…limbed man in filthy overalls was crouching with his back to me； rummaging through a foot locker。
'Hello？' I said。
He jumped out of his skin； turning and rising in the same frantic motion； then crashed backwards against a row of metal cabinets。 His
long； gawky face was pale with fear。 His hands were raised。
'Oh crap！ Oh dear God…Emperor！ Oh； please… please…'
'Calm down；' I said。
'Who are you？ Oh； crap； don't hurt me！'
'I'm not going to。 My name is Horn。 Who are you？'
'Bandelbi… Fyn Bandelbi… mining superintendant second class； Ortog Promethium… crap； don't hurt me！'
'I'm not going to；' I repeated firmly。 At least the frayed nametag on his dungarees agreed with him： 'BANDELBI； F。 SUPER 2nd O。P。'
'Put your hands down；' I said。 'Why did you think I was going to hurt you？'
He lowered his hands and shrugged。 'I didn't… sort of… I don't know…'
He regained a little composure and squinted at me。 'Where did you come from？' he asked。 He was an ugly； lantern…jawed fellow with
unkempt greasy hair and stubble。 There was the hint of a raw pink birthmark on the side of his throat。
'Off rock。 Just got here。 I was wondering why there was no one around。'
'Everyone's gone。'
'Gone？'
'Gone。 Shipped out。 Left。 Because of the Gravs。'
'The Gravs？'
I don't know if he was going to answer。 My motion tracker suddenly flashed an alert up on my lens and I wheeled around to find a
man standing in the registry's entrance。 He was a big man with dark skin and a white stubble of hair and beard。 The autopistol in his
right hand was aimed at my face。
'Nice and slow；' he said。 'Lose the guns。 And the mask。'
'What's going on？ Who's in charge here？' demanded a voice from outside。 It was Aemos。
The man with the gun glanced outside and then waved me ahead of him。 Aemos； looking very haughty and dignified； stood in the
streetway behind the parked buggy。
'Well？ I am Doctor Savine； from the Royal Scholam Geologicus on Mendalin。 Is this the way Cinchare Minehead greets its guests？' I
was impressed。 There was a querulous tone of piqued authority。 Aemos had acting talents I had never imagined。
'You got papers？' asked the man with the gun； still covering me。 Ban…delbi had emerged and was watching the exchange。
'Of course！' Aemos snapped。 'And I'll show them to someone in authority。'
The man with the gun reached his free hand down into the neck of his mesh…reinforced coat and pulled out a polished silver badge on
a neck chain。 'Enforcer Kaleil； Cinchare Minehead Security Service。 I'm the only authority you'll find round here。'
Aemos tutted and rapped the tip of his data…cane down on the rockcrete ground。 The cane…head clicked around and cast a small
hologram into the air above it： identity details； the seal of the Royal Scholam Geographicus； and a slowly revolving 3…D scan of
Aemos's head。
'Okay； doctor；' nodded Kaleil。 He gestured to me with the gun。 'What about this goon？'
'You think I'd travel out to this misbegotten rock without a bodyguard？ This goon is Mr Horn。'
'This goon y friend Bandelbi。'
Aemos looked at me sternly。 'I've warned you about that； Horn！ Dammit！ You're not in the Mordian gang…wars now！'
Aemos turned back to Kaleil。 'He is somewhat enthusiastic。 One testosterone…stimm too many； somewhere along the line。 But I needed
muscle； not brains； and he was cheaper than a cyber…mastiff。'
Be thankful you can't see my face behind this mask； old friend； I thought。
'Okay。 But keep him on a leash；' said Kaleil； bolstering his weapon。 'Let's go to the security station and you can tell me what the hell
you're doing here。'
'And you can tell me where the hell everyone is；' replied Aemos。 Kaleil nodded and gestured for us to lead the way down the street。
'So you don't need me to detonate anyone's skull； Doctor Savine？' said a voice。
Kaleil and Bandelbi froze。 Medea slunk from cover in a shutterway across the street； a Glavian needle pistol held in an unwavering
two…handed grip and aimed at Kaleil's head。
'Crap！' Bandelbi gasped。
'My pilot；' Aemos said； deadpan。 He flapped a hand sidelong at Medea。 'No； Cora。 We're all friends here now。'
Medea grinned and winked at Kaleil； sliding her weapon away inside her flight suit。
'Had you cold； Enforcer Kaleil。'
Kaleil gave her a murderous glare and led us towards the