'A signal error. The conditions and the poor light foxed your picter's sensors and-'

'I know how to use a picter, captain, and I know how to recognise poor exposure, lens flare, and digital mal-formance. That's not it. Look.’

She punched up the second pict, and half-looked at it, gesturing with her hand. 'Look at the background. And the droplets of blood in the foreground there. Perfect pict capture. But the thing itself. I've never seen anything create that effect on a high-gain instrument. That "wild beast" is out of sync with the physical continuity around it. Which is, captain, exactly as I saw it. You've studied these closely, no doubt?'

'No.’ said Loken.

Keeler pulled up another image. She stared at it fully this time, and men looked away. "There, you see? The afterimage? It's on all of them, but this is the dearest.'

'I don't see...'

'I'll boost the contrast and lose a little of the motion blurring.’ She fiddled with the engine's controls. "There. See now?'

Loken stared. What had at first seemed to be a frothy, milky ghost blurring across the image of the nightmare thing had resolved clearly thanks to her manipulation. Superimposed on the fuz2y abomination was a semi-human shape, echoing the pose and posture of the creature. Though it was faint, there was no mistaking the shrieking face and wracked body of Xavyer Jubal.

'Know him?' she asked. 'I don't, but I recognise the physiognomy and build of an Astartes when I see it. Why would my picter register that, unless...'

Loken didn't reply.

Keeler switched the screen off, popped out the slate and tossed it back to Loken. He caught it neatly. She went back over to the cot and flopped down.

That's what I wanted you to explain to me.’ she said. That's why I sent you the picts. When I was in my deepest, darkest pits of madness, that's what I was hoping you'd come and explain to me, but don't worry. I'm past that now. I'm fine. A wild beast, that's all it was. A wild beast.’

Loken gazed at the slate in his hand. He could barely imagine what Keeler had been through. It had been bad enough for the rest of them, but he and Nero and Sinder-mann had all enjoyed the benefit of proper closure. They'd been told the truth. Keeler hadn't. She was smart and bright and clever, and she'd seen the holes in the story, the awful inconsistencies that proved there had been more to the event than the first captain's explanation. And she'd managed with that knowledge, coped with it, alone.

'What did you think it was?' he asked.

'Something awful that we should never know about.’ she replied. Throne, Loken. Please don't take pity on me now. Please don't decide to tell me.’

'I won't.’ he said. 'I can't. It was a wild beast. Euphrati, how did you deal with it?'

What do you mean?'

'You say you're fine now. How are you fine?'

'My friends helped me through. I told you.’

Loken got up, picked up the flask, and went over to the cot. He sat down on the end of the mattress and refilled the glass she held out.

Thank you.’ she said. 'I've found strength. I've found-'

For a moment, Loken was certain she had been about to say 'faith'.

'What?'

Trust. Trust in the Imperium. In the Emperor. In you.’

'In me?'

'Not you, personally. In the Astartes, in the Imperial army, in every branch of mankind's warrior force that is dedicated to the protection of us mere mortals.’ She took a sip and sniggered. The Emperor, you see, protects.’

'Of course he does.’ said Loken.

'No, no, you misunderstand.’ said Keeler, folding her arms around her raised, sheet-covered knees. 'He actually does. He protects mankind, through the Legions, through the martial corps, through the war machines of the Mechanicum. He understands the dangers. The inconsistencies. He uses you, and all the instruments like you, to protect us from harm. To protect our physical bodies from murder and damage, to protect our minds from madness, to protect our souls. This is what I now understand. This is what this trauma has taught me, and I am thankful for it. There are insane dangers

in the cosmos, dangers that mankind is fundamentally unable to comprehend, let alone survive. So he protects us. There are truths out there that would drive us mad by one fleeting glimpse of them. So he chooses not to share them with us. That's why he made you.’

That's a glorious concept.’ Loken admitted.

'In the Whisperheads, that day... You saved me, didn't you? You shot that thing apart. Now you save me again, by keeping the truth to yourself. Does it hurt?'

'Does what hurt?'

The truth you keep hidden?'

'Sometimes.’ he said.

'Remember, Garviel. The Emperor is our truth and our light. If we trust in him, he will protect.’

'Where did you get that from?' Loken asked.

'A friend. Garviel, I have only one concern. A lingering thing that will not quit my mind. You Astartes are loyal, through and through. You keep to your own, and never break confidence.’

'And?'

Tonight, I really believe you would have told me something, but for the loyalty you keep with your brothers. I admire that, but answer me this. How far does your loyalty go? Whatever it was happened to us in the Whisperheads, I believe an Astartes brother was part of it. But you close ranks. What has to happen before you forsake your loyalty to the Legion and recognise your loyalty to the rest of us?'

'I don't know what you mean.’ he said.

Yes, you do. If a brother turns on his brothers again, will you cover that up too? How many have to turn before you act? One? A squad? A company? How long will you keep your secrets? What will it take for you to cast aside the fraternal bonds of the Legion and cry out "This is wrong!"?'

You're suggesting an impossible-'

'No, I'm not. You, of all people, know I'm not. If it can happen to one, it can happen to others. You're all so drilled and perfect and identical. You march to the same beat and do whatever is asked of you. Loken, do you know of any Astartes who would break step? Would you?'

'I...'

'Would you? If you saw the rot, a hint of corruption, would you step out of your regimented life and stand against it? For the greater good of mankind, I mean?'

'It's not going to happen.’ Loken said. That would never happen. You're suggesting civil disunity. Civil war. That is against every fibre of the Imperium as the Emperor has created it. With Horus as Warmaster, as our guiding light, such a possibility is beyond countenance. The Imperium is firm and strong, and of one purpose. There are inconsistencies, Euphrati, just like there are wars and plagues and famines. They hurt us, but they do not kill us. We rise above them and move onwards.’

'It rather depends.’ she remarked, 'where those inconsistencies occur.’

Token's vox-cuff suddenly began to bleat. Loken raised his wrist, and thumbed the call stud. I'm on my way.’ he said. He looked back at her.

'Let's talk again, Euphrati.’ he said.

She nodded. He leant forwards and kissed her on the forehead. 'Be well. Be better. Look to your friends.’

'Are you my friend?' she asked.

'Know it.’ he said. He got up and retrieved his robe from the floor.

'Garviel.’ she called from the cot.

Yes?'

'Delete those images, please. For me. They don't need to exist.’

He nodded, opened the shutter, and stepped out into the chill of the hall.

Once the shutter had closed, Keeler got up off the cot and let the sheet fall from her. Naked, she padded over to a cupboard, knelt and opened its doors. From inside, she took out two candles and a small figurine of the Emperor. She placed them on the top of the cupboard, and lit the candles with an igniter. Then she rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out the dog-eared pamphlet that Leef had given her. It was a cheap, crude thing, badly pressed from a mechanical bulk-printer. There were ink soils along its edges, and rather a lot of spelling mistakes in the text.