The sun was up and the blood was cold by the time the four of us were allowed down from our position and into the target. We had captured five enemies and killed four. One hostage had died. We rescued five, including one with a bullet through her neck that had somehow missed everything important. We hadn't had long to question the prisoners before giving them to the Enforcers. We weren't the Inquisition, this wasn't a shrine-world, and we didn't own anyone who didn't proactively attack the Church.
I doubt we would have learned any more of use to us if we kept them forever.
More than half of them had surrendered on sight. They took hostages. Not like the hab at all.
Under the fresh reek of explosives and gore, the inside of the old building stank of tobacco and lho smoke, garbage left too long, dishes heaped in the sink, unwashed men's clothes. There was a pornographic pict-book open on a bed. A box jammed full of cash in a closet. I hope Isela took it before we left. It would do more good in the chapel's poorbox than in an Enforcer's evidence locker, or his pockets.
And then the cellar. A filthy little prison. Not the worst I've seen, may God have mercy, but bad.
The ones we captured, I'm told, all swore they had never heard of the Sanctifying Truth. That they didn't have anything to do with shooting Nika. I believed them. Every city has people like this, and people they sell to.
I was angry. It was easy to be angry, and I was glad we had killed some of them, but it wasn't just that.
Isela found me in the cellar. The body of the hostage was gone, but the bodies of the hostage-takers were still there, lying in puddles gone dark and sticky.
"It wasn't them," I said.
She didn't answer.
"I think the Enforcers lied to us."
"No," she said. "Think more carefully."
"Someone in the Enforcers, then."
She didn't answer.
"Not just lies. Someone knew about this. Probably for a long time."
She didn't answer. I didn't go on.
"Sometimes sin serves the Emperor's will, Marisa. We will find whoever lied to us about this place. You don't need to know the specifics, but the Enforcers—true Enforcers—are already on his trail. This wasn't a waste. Even beyond what we did here. Be at peace. Thank the Emperor in all things."
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We went back to the fortress-convent. We had an exemption from most duties, but of course the bells didn't stop for us, so sleep, when it came, came between them and the prayers they called. Better that it was thus, anyway. Something to shift our body's rhythms back to the proper shape and mend our minds with prayer. Something to wake us gently out of terrible dreams.
After the sunset bell, I finally found my way to the Chamber of Skulls. A Sister I knew was kneeling there, near to the circular wall. Some do that, if they have a friend or mentor in the wall. I saw her sense me, but we didn't speak. I knelt near the center, closed my eyes, and prayed silently. After a few minutes, she left.
I stayed there for a long time. It felt like I was a plant soaking up rain after a long drought. I wept and had to leave to get something to wipe my nose. I came back and prayed, sometimes rote words, sometimes my own, sometimes just a prayer of will and breath.
It's not what the chamber is for, not why we keep the skulls, but I missed Sariah. She was a friend who died the year before. I wished there had been enough left of her to put a token here.
I wanted to be "on his trail" like Isela said, pursuing this person connected with the heretic sect. I felt connected to it, and to whatever made the Fear. It was just like the long-las. I had held it once at the hab, so now like a child I wanted it to be mine. And it had hurt me and my friends, this Fear, or Evil, or whatever it should be called, so I wanted to kill it.
I whispered these things to the dead. I prayed. I thanked the Emperor in all things.
When I die, I hope there there is enough of me left to place it with the others. Until a hundred passing centuries turn even that to dust, and some young Novice sweeps me up with grumpy half-feigned reverence to learn the discipline of War.