The rattle and clang of machinery echoed in the din of the now mostly vacant halls of the manufactora. After we had ascended the stairs, I saw little in the way of clues. The floor where the cultist had run looked nearly identical to the other rotors and steel grinders, save for a sticky black substance I could reasonably guess was some form of tobacco splotted along the handle of the machine. I rubbed it between two gloved fingers and sniffed it gently, my suspicions confirmed. It was good it wasn't a chaos substance, and yet it still meant we had nothing of else of substance, either. As I examined further, Emmaline's question reached my ears. 

I rose from my crouch and looked at her. The others had swept across the rest of the manufactora, leaving us alone. Despite her intelligence and her savvy, as well as her incredible luck, she was still relatively green to this kind of life. I often tried to appear unbiased when it came to speaking with her in front of the others to keep a show of favoritism to be the furthest thing from their minds, but I believe I sometimes over-corrected myself and became cold in front of her, and that was the last thing I wanted her to think. I removed my glove as I spoke. 

"You've done remarkably well in the short time I've known you, Emma. You did your best, and at the crux of it, I would rather a cultist of the great enemy to be dead rather than escape. I know you feel as if you're here partly because of our..." I did not know what to call us, really. I cared for her, but was it love? I was too busy and preoccupied to have really wrestled with the question. "our relationship, but if I felt you weren't a good aide, you would have stayed on Pacitus. You're here because you get results, and I would not have any other psyker by my side in the Imperium, even if Malcador the Sigilite walked up and offered his services." 

Looking back, I realized I had a small undertone of feeling in my voice that could only come from a man speaking a woman, but I still meant it and I have never felt like it was poor wording. I saw a smile blossom on her face, and I allowed myself to smile back. The smell of rust and various gasses could not ruin the moment. 

Unfortunately, the bullet that blew a hole through my kidney pulled it off. The gunshot echoed a fraction of a moment after the projectile had entered the small of my back and I fell to my knees before I even knew what had caused me to stumble. Blood began leaking from my abdomen, and vaguely I remembered trying to staunch the flow as crimson dribbled down my shirt and fell through the grating to the lower levels. It didn't hurt at first. It was only a pressure and a feeling of cold, and behind me the shadowy figure lined up another shot. 

"Die, Inquisitor Drakos."