The holomat was set up in the centre of the librar-ium. Salvage teams and tech-priests from the Obedience had carefully swept the librarium and lost several men rooting through trapped bookshelves. Once it had been established that the librarium was that of the Soul Drinkers Chapter, Thaddeus had ordered the salvage teams to be confined to the hulk and to secure the immediate area. Corridors had been sealed off with rockcrete to prevent decompression traps from emptying the librarium sector of air. The teams slowly spreading out into the hulk were locating dormitories and meditation cells, weapons lockers and infirmaries, all converted from ancient, empty sections of Imperial ships welded into the mass of the hulk.

The datacubes recovered had mostly been wiped. The truly crucial information had probably been portable enough for the Soul Drinkers to take with them before they abandoned the hulk. But there was some residual information in the glossy black monoliths of data-slate and the cogitators of the various intact ships. The Soul Drinkers had referred to the hulk as the Brokenback, and had clearly adopted the craft as a home after the scuttling of their fleet. There were records of journeys across the galaxy, often to apparently dead sectors, and hints of massive Marine losses in a battle on some unnamed world.

And then, there was the pict-file that Thaddeus had just played, showing the assault.

'It had been accessed repeatedly.’ came a voice from across the library. It was Interrogator Shen, a tall and handsome man who still carried an air of the tribal warrior about him in spite of the archaic carapace armour he wore and the inferno pistol holstered at his waist. His voice was clipped and somehow artificial, for he had been sleep-taught Imperial Gothic relatively late in life. 'Whatever its significance, the Soul Drinkers scrutinised this file extensively before they left. That was why the tech-priests were able to piece it together from the various cogitators.’

'Do they know what it depicts?' Thaddeus was cycling slowly backwards through the file, watching the assault unfold in reverse.

'We presume it is some former operation. The location is uncertain. It could be the event that cost them so many of their own, but the Adeptus Mechanicus were the first organisation they turned against and here they are helping them.’

Thaddeus shook his head. He pointed towards the weapon now sucking bullets back out of the eldar aspect warriors. 'That's a Centauri pattern bolter. The Soul Drinkers' equipment was well up to date when they turned, this file must have been shot a decade ago at least. Before their heresy. We need to find out where this is, have the tech-priests begun forensic scrutiny?'

They have begun, Master Thaddeus.’ replied Shen. 'But there is little to work with. The outpost building is apparently a common STC construction and there are no landmarks. It is a Mechanicus outpost and the world is one of tundra, but there are thousands such. And if the events are as old as you say, it may not even be there any more.’

Thaddeus paused the image. The recorder captured the instant when the tactical squad had leapt over the first barricades into the Dire Avenger defences. Dire Avengers were the most disciplined of the eldar aspects, diligent and dependable, the mainstay of the eldar elite. But the Soul Drinkers had smashed through them and other aspects alike, though outnumbered and unsupported. They had been most admirable in their time, thought Thaddeus. Great warriors, and fearless, but they had been proud. Their pride had led them to a terrible heresy, to break with the Imperium itself. It was a shame that they would have to be destroyed, but Thaddeus would see that they were.

'If it was important to them,' said Thaddeus, 'then it is important to us. If we find the location of this recording we may well find the Soul Drinkers. Shen, you may have to follow up other leads on your own. It is no little responsibility.’

'I accept, Master Thaddeus.' Shen had served Thaddeus for seven years, the latter few as a solid interrogator. Unlike Thaddeus, Shen was a warrior first, but Thaddeus had put most of his efforts into training the man's mind, and Shen could be trusted to look after himself.

'Good. Bring the astropathic choir aboard the Bro-kenback and have them take up their vigil again. I want to hear of any further sightings of the Soul Drinkers, no matter how trivial or unlikely. We may be able to use them to pin down this location. Take some of the Obedience's astropaths, too. Use my authority. The Brokenback will be our base of operations until I say otherwise.’

Shen bowed neatly to the inquisitor, and strode off to fulfil his duties. Thaddeus wondered if Shen ever really thought he would be an inquisitor one day In truth, Shen didn't have the patience or imagination to hunt down the enemies that threatened mankind from within. Thaddeus knew his own strengths, and Shen didn't come close. He was, however, as fine an interrogator as Thaddeus could wish for - loyal, diligent, and able to summon a deadly streak of violence in a tight spot.

Thaddeus looked once more at the holo image, where purple-armoured giants charged fearlessly into a storm of gunfire. He had never truly understood how Space Marines, particularly the assault-oriented Soul Drinkers, could make a tactic of a headlong, suicidal attack and somehow attain victory after victory when mere men would be cut to pieces. It was as if their conditioning and sheer faith carried them through when physics and logic should bring them low.

And now that faith had been perverted until a whole Chapter of such giants had declared themselves the enemies of the Imperium. Thaddeus found it difficult to imagine a more dangerous enemy.

IT WAS A beautiful day. It was always beautiful in House Jenassis. The dome under which the habitat was built had been constructed of electroreactive materials that always created a flawless blue sky overhead no matter what the conditions on the planetoid outside. The atmosphere was permanently stabilised at an even summer's day, allowing the impressive alien plants of the gardens to flourish. Phrantis Jenassis always made time every day to walk the gardens, until he lost sight of the palace's golden minarets between the spreading boughs of imported alien trees.

House Jenassis was a colony several kilometres across, housed in an atmospheric dome and consisting of the palace itself, the grounds with their lakes and greenhouses, a cluster of simple rustic habs for the retainers, and the temple-like complex that housed the Grand Galactarium. House Jenassis was also the name of a Navigator family that had served the Imperium for more than ten thousand years, since before the Horus Heresy. Phrantis Jenassis, the current patriarch of the House, had himself taken the Emperor's starships through the warp where only his warp eye could see the way, but had returned after a long career to take over the House. It was a good life, especially considering how so many less fortunate billions suffered to survive. But it was a life deserved, of that Phrantis Jenassis was sure, for without the Navigators the Imperium would be no more than a vulnerable collection of isolated star systems at the mercy of its enemies.

The duties for the day were many. Phrantis had to negotiate with the Departmento Munitorum to contract Imperial Guardsmen to guard the many scions of House Jenassis on their travels. There were reciprocal arrangements to make that bound Navigators to particular individuals or Imperial organisations. New births would have to be registered and Phrantis would have to sign the examiners' reports to confirm that the new bearers of the Navigator gene were free from corruptive mutation. The House's accounts were due to be reviewed and a long and tortuous process that would become. Yes, the House retainers would doubtless thrust many sheets of parchment under his nose to be read or signed or acted upon, but that was for the rest of the day. The morning would be spent enjoying the gardens, for why else would Phrantis Jenassis have worked so hard if not to earn some deserved leisure time in old age?