I just wanna chat

It was unusual. Heinrix couldn’t remember the last time, any time, he felt so bad. No disease caused anything worse than a passing discomfort, he never had to deal with a hangover or consequences of eating a funny smelling piece of food, and his injuries healed without a trace. Father had always been strangely proud of it, as if it was Heinrix’s — or his own — personal achievement, and regularly declared his firstborn’s astonishing health a sign of the God-Emperor’s benevolence. It was awkward, but arguing had long proved to be pointless.

Another unpleasant discovery was that he had not the faintest idea what could be the cause of this condition and no recollection of the prior events: only a blurry of memory of a long unsettling dream. There was a dark ship, and a dark place where people died so quickly he gave up trying to remember their names, a hulking man in hissing and clanking power armor, and someone screaming and begging him to stop, promising to tell everything, and—

The details were escaping him already, as the reality was displacing the nightmare. His senses, dulled by the sickness, returned to him slowly, making him feel like an old faulty machine turning its systems on one by one. He blinked away the tears — God-Emperor, the sun was merciless! — and saw the room, spacious but austere for someone of his station. It was their summer residence, he realized, an estate near a sea shore, smaller and cozier than the cold and ancient family castle. An open window let in a soft breeze carrying the scents of flowers and warm earth. Heinrix heard birds chirping and two people talking in garden. He couldn’t make out the words but recognized the voices of his sisters: Astrid telling something and Ireene replying curtly, with growing frustration.

Heinrix and Ireene were alike in many ways, but he and Astrid got along better — maybe because the age gap between them wasn’t as big, and she had always been in his life as he had been in hers. He had to remember as much of the dream as he could, Heinrix thought, and tell her about it. Astrid loved those kind of things: strange dreams, prophecies, legends,  mysterious rumors and dramatic gossip. Newfound purpose gave him strength to get up from the bed and head to the bathroom to assess just how terrible he looked.

The mirror confirmed his worst expectations: if he saw someone like this on a street, he would think them an obscura addict in a deep withdrawal. He was waxy pale, with messy hair clumped together by sweat, a deep shadow under his eye and a rim of inflammation around the implant. Heinrix gingerly touched the socket on his nape and winced: the surge of pain was so overwhelming, his vision went dark for a moment. It cascaded lower, exploding around the sockets down his spine.

He needed to see a medic, he thought.

He washed his face, put on a fresh shirt and a coat and went down to the garden instead.

Heinrix found his sisters still arguing in a small gazebo surrounded by blossoming trees. Astrid wore a long dress of purple silk, and Ireene opted for a white shirt and a pair of light gray breeches. Her jacket was laying on the bench near her, folded neatly in a way that put the embroidery of their House emblem on top.

“Have you lost your mind?” Astrid gasped when she noticed him. “You are going to catch a cold dressed like that!”

Ireene couldn’t resist a chuckle.

Even in this shadowed corner of the garden, the air was hot, and the high humidity made it thick like soup. Astrid’s reaction to Heinrix’s heavy coat was well-deserved, but he was still shivering despite the heat.

“Good morning to you too.”

“It’s noon,” Ireene said.

“What were two you talking about?” Heinrix asked, sitting down on the bench besides them. It was a relief: staying upright was becoming a challenge.

“Are you unwell?” At first he thought the question to be sarcastic, but there was sincere concern in Ireene’s voice.

When time and rejuvenating treatments smoothed the age difference between them, they started to look so similar, people often took them for twins: both tall and slender, with their Father’s strong features, hazel eyes and dark hair cut short so it wouldn’t get in the way when piloting a Knight.

“Of course, don’t you see he is having a heat stroke,” Astrid scoffed. “We were talking about Adelaide from the von Morfort House. You remember her, right? Well, she eloped! And can you guess with whom?”

“Enlighten me.”

“With a psyker!” Astrid had Mother’s heart-shaped face and big green eyes that lit up with excitement when she she delivered the juicy gossip. “They met during a campaign against the Chaos forces in Libera system and fell in love. Lord and Lady von Morfort were furious, so Adelaide gave up all her titles and now refuses to return home.”

“This is a disgrace,” Ireene sighed and shook her head, “and I don’t understand what amuses you so. A Knight abandoned her House and her duty to mingle with a witch. The only consolation is that they won’t continue the tainted bloodline.”

“This “witch” serves the God-Emperor, like any of us, and fights against the Archenemy. She didn’t choose her curse, but she chose to use it for good.”

“I doubt psykers have much choice in that matter,” Heinrix chimed in, “They die for the Imperium or they die at the hands of the Imperium’s servants.”

“Would you die for the people who shun you, and call you a witch and a monster no matter how much you sacrifice for them?” Astrid asked with an unexpected passion, but it went out as quickly as it flared up. “Ah, why do I even bother. Of course you two would.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Ireene’s eyebrows flew up.

“And would you love me less, if it were the case? Or if I fell in love with a psyker? If I were a psyker?”

Ireene put her hands in the sing of aquila and pressed against her chest as if trying to ward herself from her sister.

“Don’t say something like this! It’s not just about you or me, it about the honor of our House. If psyker’s curse befell out family, I would pray for His forgiveness—”

“Pray? I hoped you would say that you would wash the shame off with the blood of the enemies of mankind and restore our glory in battle. How mundane! Since you settle on praying, ask Him to grant you an iota of imagination too.”

Ireene’s eyes grew wide. Satisfied with her reaction, Astrid turned to Heinrix with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“So, the important thing is, you missed your chance. Maybe if you were a bit more persistent, you would’ve saved Ada from this disgrace and I would at last get some nieces and nephews to spoil.”

“Considering she eloped with a woman, I doubt it would be a happy marriage.”

“Fair, fair.” Astrid nodded very seriously, as if she heard a compelling argument in a philosophical debate, and then caught Ireene’s confused stare. “Oh, you can’t remember this, you were very little, but when we were kids, Heine was in love with…”

“I wasn’t!”

“…he was absolutely smitten with Ada! It was so sweet. She did not reciprocate, thought, and now we can guess why.”

When Heinrix last saw her, Adelaide had been half a head taller than him, and he wondered idly if she still was. He did like her, and their parents discussed the possibility of an alliance that would strengthen the ties between their Houses — if they agreed upon it, her preferences would matter little. Something had disrupted these plans, and it wasn’t the lack of persistence on his side. Heinrix tried to remember what had happened, but it only made him nauseous. He wanted to change the topic.

“Well, there is hardly a point to rake up the past this distant. Let us instead talk of the future. What are you plans for today?”

“Reena and I are going to have a picnic on a beach,” Astrid replied. Ireene’s face betrayed that it was news for her as well as Heinrix, but she didn’t argue. “Will you join us? Please, Heine, you are so very pale, you need fresh air!”

He needed to see a medic, he thought again.

He wasn’t suffering from an infection or a poisoning — it was bloodloss, and it was reaching a point beyond his body’s regenerative capabilities. His shirt was soaked with blood trickling down his back, his hands were cold, and his head heavy.

He needed to leave.

“I’m at your full disposal,” he said instead.

Ding-ding-ding-ding — the peal of heals on the metallic floor rang through the corridor outside his ward. Softer, hastier steps rustled close by.

“…This is preposterous! He can’t just…” Heinrix heard nasal whining of Lettard Forius.

“He can.” It was Kadath. Heinrix always found it interesting how someone of her build had a voice this deep.

“He barges in, scares my medics, douses everything with blood and asks, demands for help! And when I start questioning him about his condition as my duty requires, he—”

“I suggest you redirect your complaints to the Lord Inquisitor Calcazar. Kibellah, wait for me here, please.”

Kadath knocked on the door of his ward, and Heinrix welcomed her in. Her psyber-raven flew in first and landed on his jacket, folded on a chair near the bed, pecking at the gilded buttons. Heinrix often wondered if the bird liked him or just anything shiny, and he finally got his answer. 

“Interrogator,” Kadath nodded to him.

“Rogue Trader. Did you come to inquire about my health?”

“I rushed to you as soon as I heard the news,” her smile was dazzling as always and her tone light, but it didn’t hide her tired look and the dark shadows under her eyes. This warp-jump was challenging for her too, and while in the sick bay, Heinrix heard that many people on the ship suffered from strange visions and reveries.

“I’m much better now and also deeply flattered by Your Ladyship’s concern about my well-being.”

“Frankly,” Kadath admitted sitting down on the edge of his bed, “I’m also concerned about mine and the effect your death might have on it. Can you imagine how awkward it would be to explain to the Lord Inquisitor that his Interrogator mysteriously died from bloodloss, with several wounds on his back?”

“I can imagine you having Abelard to deliver the news.”

“Or Kibellah. People never argue with her for some reason.”

The mental image of the death cult assassin solemnly declaring to shocked Calcazar that “the Undying one whispered Veni’Heinrix’s name” made him snort rather ungracefully.

“And I’m not the only one concerned for you, by the way. On my way here, I was approached by one of the Lady Navigator’s servants. She asked to give you this.”

Kadath fished out a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Heinrix. It was a pencil sketch, simple but masterful: several quick, bold lines depicted an open window, a lush garden and a sea glistening by the horizon behind the trees.

“It’s a view… a view from my…” A clump in his throat didn’t let him finish the sentence, and Kadath didn’t insist.

“If you break Lady Cassia’s heart, Abelard will find you even in the afterlife. So next time, please, don’t wait for a whole day to… require assistance, should you need it. After all, it would be rather silly to requisition a whole ship and not make use of it’s facilities, don’t you think?”

Heinrix often reminded himself that he was too old to take a woman’s polite friendliness for sincere affection. Especially if the woman had high chances of being a scheming heretic trying to lull his vigilance. He should know better than open up to her, he thought when he asked:

“Do you think it was real?”

“Real? Like a glance at some version of reality that could be if things were a little different? If we were a bit luckier?”

For a second Heinrix thought Kadath would laugh. He would, if somebody asked him if there was any truth in the tricks of the warp. But she didn’t — she would never laugh at a question like this, and it was one of the reasons he grew to like her.

Kadath shrugged, a gesture both childish and endearing.

“I don’t know. What would you prefer?”