‘It pains me to admit it,’ Chetta said grudgingly, ‘but I may trust your people more than I trust any of mine at the moment, save for DeShelle. And Tekoa, I suppose.’ She raised an eyebrow at Jekri as they made a stuttering, mechanical sound that Chetta interpreted after a moment as laughter. ‘Did I say something funny?’

‘Jekri,’ Ngiri said, a note of warning in her voice.

‘I am not used to being held in such positive regard,’ the former skitarius said. ‘That is all. The people we meet are rarely glad to see us.’

‘Well, given the Bettans’ betrayal, how can I be sure that any pilot of mine is not secretly a fanatic of some sort?’ Chetta pointed out.

‘I, an agent of the Inquisition, am so glad to be told that I am not a fanatic,’ Jekri replied. ‘It is a refreshing change.’

‘You are not secretly a fanatic,’ Chetta told them dryly. ‘And a devotion to stopping the rogue psyker attempting to pull this planet into the warp is a fanaticism I can thoroughly support.’ She craned her neck, but could no longer get the angle of view she wanted. ‘Are the Jo’Sins following us?’

‘Yes,’ Ngiri confirmed, her greater height allowing her to see what Chetta could not. ‘I have contacted Judge Arctos again, and have asked him to have any reports on progress passed on to us.’

‘“Asked”?’ Chetta said, looking up at the taller woman.

‘Asked,’ Ngiri replied firmly. ‘Diplomacy is a far more useful tool than intimidation, save in the direst of circumstances. As I’m sure you understand.’ She turned, and squeezed her ceramite-armoured form past Chetta and through the hatchway that led off the flight deck. ‘Come, let us rejoin your honour guard before Fell attempts to engage them in a dice game.’

Six of the TriStar Guard, those House Brobantis troops specifically assigned to shield the ruling family from harm, awaited them in the main hold. Each one wore carapace armour with their masters’ insignia on the breast, and each cradled a hellgun across their chest. They stood in a rigid line, their backs to the main door, awaiting instructions. Not exactly opposite them, but grouped together and too-casually doing apparently unimportant things with weapons and other paraphernalia, were Fell, Davis of Rawl and Carmine.

The TriStar were taken in as orphans, and raised with House Brobantis as their only family. Unless their childhood instructors had also been corrupted, Chetta felt it was highly unlikely that they’d have been compromised. Their loyalty should be beyond question, as was their martial skill: Brobantis’ standard practice was to hire ex-Militarum officers to train them.