Hero of the Imperium, page 18
Calling on my troopers to follow me, and taking but a moment to switch the command channels to the combead in my ear, I jumped from the rear ramp, eager to join the fray.
The sight which met my eyes was to give me pause. The elegant buildings and thoroughfares through which we’d driven were no more, their places taken by heaps of rubble through which barely recognisable pieces of their original form could still, in places, be discerned. A thick pall of dust and smoke hung over everything, reducing the bright afternoon sun to a sullen grey, and for a moment, I couldn’t still the flicker of regret which rose unbidden in my breast. Even tainted by the alien as it had been, the architecture had been undeniably elegant.
I had little time for reflection, however, as the crack of las-fire reminded me forcefully of the dire peril my soldiers were in, and with a cry of ‘For the Emperor!’ I led my doughty quartet to the rescue. A quick study of the tactical slate in the Chimera had shown me that I had an unengaged squad sufficiently close to the most distant of the enemy positions to flank it with a high probability of success, and after a few terse instructions to the sergeant leading it, this indeed was to prove to be the case. That left the nearest to us.
We took them completely by surprise, a couple of frag rounds from our grenade launcher bursting among them and causing great dismay, before charging home to dispatch the survivors with pistols and chainsword. Cowards all, as those who oppose the Emperor invariably are, they broke and ran, exposing themselves to the vengeful fire of the squad they’d been pinning down, who were only too keen to even the score. I’m proud to say that of the team under my direct command only one man was wounded, taking a las-bolt to the leg as we charged, while none of the traitors escaped alive.
[From which we may safely conclude that, whatever her martial abilities, Sulla was no literary stylist.]
NINE
‘Things are very seldom what they seem. In my
experience, they’re usually a damn sight worse.’
– Inquisitor Titus Drake.
It goes without saying that, given my profession, I’ve had more than my fair share of unpleasant surprises. But to find that the woman I’d spent a pleasant social evening trying to impress with my half-formed speculations about events she was privy to, and, it must be admitted, had been quite smitten by (insofar as I’ve ever been susceptible to such things32), was really an undercover inquisitor came pretty close to the top of the list. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the expression of tolerant amusement on her face at my utter stupefaction increased my discomfiture a thousandfold.
‘But I thought... Orelius...’ I said, barely making sense even to myself. Amberley laughed as the Salamander hurtled through the streets back to the fortified compound where Zyvan had established the headquarters of our expeditionary force. Through the vox bead in my ear, I could hear the firefight in the Heights continuing. Sulla had apparently done something stupid, but we were winning comfortably with few enough casualties for things to be fine without any further interference from me, so I felt justified in ordering Jurgen to take us back to the staging area as quickly as possible. Rakel and Orelius quite clearly needed medical attention, which gave me the perfect excuse, and I supposed it was my duty to see the inquisitor safely on her way as quickly as possible.
As it turned out, of course, I was to see a great deal more of her before we left Gravalax, and even that would be just the beginning of a long and eventful association which was to leave me in mortal peril on more occasions than I care to contemplate. Sometimes I wonder whether, if I’d had some premonition of who she really was the first time I saw her, I’d simply have left the room and avoided all the horrors to come in the ensuing decades; but I doubt it. Her company, on the rare occasions I was able simply to enjoy it for its own sake, more than made up for all the times I was left fleeing for my life or facing imminent painful death. Hard as that may be to understand, if you’d met her you’d think the same, I’m sure.33
‘Orelius?’ She braced herself as Jurgen swung us around a bend most other drivers would have thought too tight at half the speed. ‘He helps me out on occasion.’ She smiled again. ‘He seemed very impressed with you at the governor’s party, by the way.’
‘Then he’s an inquisitor too?’ I asked, my head still spinning. Amberley laughed, like water over stones, and shook her head.
‘Good Emperor, no. He’s a rogue trader. What in the warp made you think he’s an inquisitor?’
‘Just something a friend said,’ I said, thinking that would be the last time I took Divas’s word for anything. But I suppose, to be fair, he hadn’t been all that wrong as it turned out, and he hadn’t been responsible for my own febrile imaginings.
‘And the guy with the beard?’ I indicated the scribe, who was leaning over the lip of the driver’s compartment carrying on an enthusiastic conversation with Jurgen about the finer points of Salamander maintenance.
‘Caractacus Mott, my savant.’ She smiled fondly. ‘A mine of information, some of it useful.’
‘The others I’ve met,’ I said. I indicated Orelius, who had taken out a medkit and was tending to Rakel as best he could with a damaged arm. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘I’m not exactly sure,’ she replied, a thoughtful frown appearing for a moment on her face. That, I was later to discover, wasn’t entirely true; she had her suspicions, but the truth about Jurgen wouldn’t be confirmed for some time yet.
To cut a long story short, we made it back to HQ without further incident, and dispersed to our various duties. Amberley went off with the medicae to ensure that her friends were properly patched up, although as I was to find out for myself on subsequent occasions, having an inquisitor hovering in the corner doesn’t exactly help them to concentrate on stemming the bleeding or whatever. I went off for a shower and a change of clothes, but was still smelling faintly of smoke when Broklaw and the others returned in high spirits.
‘You did well, I hear,’ I congratulated him as he disembarked from his Chimera. He nodded, still a little high from the adrenaline.
‘Cleared out the whole nest of them. Minimal casualties, too.’ He broke off to return Sulla’s salute; her face was shining as though she’d just been out on a heavy date. ‘Well done, lieutenant. That was a tough call.’
‘I just asked myself what the commissar would have done,’ she said. At that point I still didn’t have a clue what either of them were talking about, but I assumed she’d distinguished herself in some way, so I tried to look pleased. It turned out later she’d pulled some damn fool stunt that had almost got her killed, but the troopers thought she was the hero of the hour, so it had all turned out for the best. Besides, it was the sort of thing I was assumed to have done myself, so I could hardly chew her out for it when the reports came in, could I?
‘And then did the opposite, I hope,’ I said, then raised an eyebrow at her expression. ‘That was a joke, lieutenant. I’m sure whatever decision you made was the correct one under the circumstances.’
‘I hope so,’ she said, saluting again, then trotting off to check on the wounded from her platoon. Broklaw watched her go with a thoughtful expression.
‘Well, it worked, anyway. Probably saved us a heap of casualties too. But...’ He shrugged. ‘She’ll probably do well in the end, if she doesn’t get herself killed first.’
Well, he was right there, of course, although none of us could see at the time just quite how far she’d go. Like they say, it’s always the ones you least expect.34
After a few more words of little consequence, Brocklaw went off to report to Kasteen, and I went to look for a drink.
I found it in a quiet booth at the back of the Eagle’s Wing. The place was almost deserted, in an eerie contrast to my visit here with Divas, but I supposed it was still a bit too early in the evening for things to be lively, and anyway the solitude fitted my mood. I’d noticed, on my short walk to the bar, that the streets were unusually quiet, too, and the few civilians I’d seen had seemed nervous, scuttling away from me as they caught sight of my uniform. Our show of strength against the rebels in the Heights had put everyone on edge, and if anything, anti-Imperial sentiment seemed to be gaining ground.
I can’t say I blamed them entirely, either. If I’d been a Gravalaxian, I’d probably be thinking that the tau might be blue, bald, and barmy, but at least they hadn’t blown up part of the city. My opinion of Grice would have fallen even further for ordering us to intervene, if that were possible.
As the amasec started to kick in, I found myself brooding over the events of the afternoon: a hairs-breadth escape from death does that to me, I start to contemplate my own mortality, and wonder what the hell I’m doing in a job where I’m liable to be killed pretty much all of the time. The answer, of course, is that I didn’t have a choice – the assessors at the Schola Progenium decided I was commissarial material, and that was that.35
I was just working myself into a perversely comforting mood of gloom and despondency when a shadow fell across me and a mellifluous voice asked, ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’
Normally, I’m never averse to feminine company, as you’ll know if you’ve read much of these memoirs, but right then all I wanted was to be left alone to contemplate the unfairness of the universe in a self-pitying haze of alcohol. However, it never pays to be impolite to an inquisitor, so I gestured to the seat across the table and masked my surprise as best I could. She’d found the time to change and freshen up too, I noticed, into a mist-grey gown which showed off her colouring to the best advantage.
‘Feel free.’ I gestured to the waitress, who looked vaguely disappointed as she delivered our order. ‘Two more, please.’
‘Thank you.’ Amberley sipped delicately at the drink, a faint moue betraying her opinion of its quality, before replacing the glass on the tabletop and regarding me quizzically. I tried to pull away from her depthless blue eyes, then decided I didn’t really want to after all. ‘You’re a remarkable man, commissar.’
‘So I’ve been told.’ I waited a heartbeat before smiling. ‘Though I can’t say I see it myself.’ The corner of Amberley’s mouth twitched, with what looked like genuine amusement.
‘Oh yes, the modest hero routine. You’ve got that one off pat, no question.’ She knocked back the rest of her drink in one, and signalled for another, leaving me gaping like an idiot. Her smile widened. ‘What’s next? “I’m just a humble soldier,” or “Trust me, I’m a servant of the Emperor?”’
‘I’m not quite sure what you’re insinuating–’ I began, but she cut me off with a chuckle.
‘Ooh, honest indignation. I haven’t seen that one in a while.’ She picked at the bowl of nuts on the table, some local variety I didn’t recognise, and flashed a grin of pure mischief at me. ‘Lighten up, commissar, I’m only pulling your leg.’
Yes, right, I thought. And letting me know you can see right through every little manipulative trick in my repertoire in the process. Something of this must have shown on my face, because her eyes softened.
‘You could just try being yourself, you know.’
The thought was terrifying. I’d spent so long hiding behind masks I was no longer sure there was a genuine Ciaphas underneath them any more, just a quivering little bundle of self-interest. Then an even more terrifying thought hit me; she could tell what I was thinking! Everything I’d tried to conceal about my fraudulent reputation would be open to her, and the inquisition... Emperor’s bowels!
‘Relax. I’m not a psyker. Just very good at reading people.’ She watched me sag into my seat with relief, not even trying to conceal it, the faint amusement still dancing in the back of her eyes. ‘Whatever you’re afraid I’ll find out is still safe. And it’ll stay that way. Unless you give me a reason to start looking for it.’
‘I’ll do my best not to,’ I promised, picking up my own drink with a shaky hand.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Her smile was warm again. ‘Because I was hoping you could help me.’
‘Help you with what?’ I asked, already sure I wasn’t going to like the answer.
The conference suite was less crowded this time, although since two of the others present were Lord General Zyvan and an inquisitor who was already making it perfectly clear that she was in charge here, it certainly seemed full enough to me. The only other person present was Mott, the elderly savant, who sat bright and alert, occasionally poking at the dent in his leg left by a hasty techpriest who hadn’t quite finished patching him up when the summons to the meeting had arrived.
‘Thank you for joining us, commissar.’ Amberley flashed me a smile which looked genuinely warm, although as an experienced manipulator myself, I wasn’t quite sure how far I could trust it. Zyvan nodded a greeting, also pleased to see me.
‘Hello again.’ Mott smiled, surprisingly clear brown eyes flickering behind his excess of beard. He evidently hadn’t found the time to wash the smell of the fire out of his hair and robes, or simply didn’t care. ‘You’ve caused us a great deal of inconvenience, young man. Although I suppose you weren’t to know.’
‘Know what?’ I asked, trying not to snap. I’d grabbed a couple of sandwiches to try and mop up the alcohol I’d drunk, and got Jurgen to find me some recaf, but between the amasec and the reaction from the day’s adventures, my head was still buzzing.
‘All in good time.’ Amberley smiled indulgently at the wizened sage. ‘Caractacus does tend to skip the dull bits given half a chance.’
‘When you get to my age, you don’t have the time to waste on them,’ he responded, smiling in return. I realised that this was all part of an easy familiarity between them, which spoke volumes for the trust the inquisitor placed in him, and the length of their association. He turned back to me. ‘Which reminds me, thank you for coming to our assistance. It was most timely.’
‘My pleasure,’ I said.
‘Then you have an extremely perverse idea of what constitutes fun. You should get out more.’
Amberley shook her head, and raised an eyebrow at me, in an exaggerated mime of exasperation.
‘You just can’t get the help these days,’ she said. I couldn’t think of any adequate response to this, so I said nothing. I’d never had a really clear idea of what an inquisitor was supposed to be like, although like most people, I had a vague impression of some scary psychopath who slaughtered their way through the Emperor’s enemies. Amberley, on the other hand, seemed to be the complete antithesis of this. She had her ruthless streak, of course, as I was to find out during our long association, but back then, the cheerful, slightly whimsical young woman with the strange sense of humour seemed about as far removed from the general preconception of her profession as it was possible to get.36 Zyvan cleared his throat.
‘Inquisitor. Perhaps we could get to the matter at hand?’
‘Of course.’ She activated the hololith, thumping it in just the right spot to bring the image into focus. ‘It goes without saying that everything you see and hear is completely confidential, commissar.’
‘Of course.’ I nodded.
‘Good. I’d hate to have to kill you.’ She smiled again, and I wondered if she was joking or not. These days, of course, I know she meant every word of it.
‘In case you haven’t been paying attention,’ she went on, ‘I’m an agent of the Ordo Xenos. You know what that means?’
‘You deal with aliens?’ I hazarded. Back then, I had only the vaguest idea that the inquisition was divided into multiple ordos with specific areas of interest and responsibility, but it was a pretty easy deduction to make. Amberley nodded approval.
‘Exactly,’ she began.
‘For the most part, anyway,’ Mott chimed in helpfully. ‘There was that Chaos cult on Arcadia Secundus, and the heretics of Ghore–’
‘Thank you, Caractacus,’ she said, meaning, ‘shut the warp up,’ so he did. As I was soon to discover, being a savant meant being obsessed with detail and trivia, and all the pedantry that went with it. Imagine the worst barroom know-it-all you ever met, who really does, and is cursed with a tourette-like compulsion to spill out everything relevant on any topic that comes up, and you’re about halfway there. Although he could be incredibly annoying at times, I found him good company in his own way once I got to know him. Especially as his gifts included an uncanny intuitive grasp of probability which we put to good use in a number of gambling establishments over the years.
Amberley pulled up a star chart on the hololith, which I recognised without too much difficulty, as it had been reproduced in far less detail in the briefing slate I’d skimmed through before we made planetfall.
‘The Damocles Gulf,’ I said, and she nodded.
‘We’re here.’ She pointed out the Gravalax system, seemingly alone and isolated on the fringes of Imperial space. ‘Notice anything about the topography of the region?’
‘We’re close to the tau border,’ I said, playing for time as I studied the images. She wouldn’t be alluding to anything that obvious, I was sure. Several of the neighbouring systems were tagged with blue icons, marking them as tau-held worlds. In fact they almost engulfed our present position, with only a thin chain of friendly yellow beacons connecting us to the welcoming haven of Imperial space. ‘Too close,’ I concluded finally. ‘If we had to fight a war here, our supply lines would be far too thin for comfort.’
