* * *
The bridge of the Essene was a wide domed chamber with floors and pillars of red-black marble. Silver servitors, immaculate and intricate as sculptures, were stationed at console positions sunk into the floor, their delicate geared arms working banks of controls set into polished mahogany fascias. The air was cool and still, and the only sound was the gentle hum and whirr of the working machines.
Maxilla, still dressed in his mourning robes, sat in a massive leather throne overlooking the room from a marble dais. Articulated limbs extending from the rear of the throne suspended pict-plates and consoles in his reach, but his attention was on the massive main observation port that dominated the front of the bridge.
I strode across the floor from the entrance. Each servitor wore a mask of chased gold, fashioned into a human face of classical perfection.
Inquisitor/ Maxilla said, rising.
'Your crew are all servitors,' I remarked.
'Yes,' he said distractedly. 'They are more reliable than pure flesh.'
I made no other comment. Maxilla's relationship with the Essene seemed to me akin to the way the Adeptus Mechanicus worship their god-machines. Constant involvement with such ancient instruments had convinced them of the natural inferiority of the human species.
I followed his gaze and looked at the main port. The gleaming sphere of Gudrun lay ahead, a creamy swirl of clouds stained with the lime-green phantoms of great forests under the climate cover. Clusters of black shapes thickly dotted the space between us and the planet. These were huge groups of orbiting ships, I realised. Massive dreadnoughts at high anchor, trains of great merchant ships, convoys of trade freighters streaming in under tug supervision. I had seldom seen such a wealth of orbital activity.
'Is there a problem?' I asked him.
He looked over at me, something like anxiety in his eyes. 'I have performed legal manoeuvres and entered the trade lane approach. Gudrun control has allocated me a high-anchor buoy. All relevant data is in order and my tariffs are paid. But I have just been informed that we are to be boarded and inspected.'
'This is unusual?'
'It's been ten years since anyone even suggested such a thing of my ship.'
'Explanation?'
'They say security. I told you there was a founding festival under way. You can see considerable portions of Battlefleet Scaras on station. I think the military is being over-careful of its interests here just now.'
'You mentioned my assistance.'
'The inspection launch is on its way. I feel it would facilitate matters if they were met by a ship's master and an Imperial inquisitor.'