The Emperor's Finest, page 8
'It's been an honour to serve with you, colonel,' I said, feeling that my last act might as well be to boost Mira's morale. I'd hardly been a model commissar, Emperor only knows, but at least I could die like one.
'We both know that's a big fat lie,' she replied grimly, as her last powerpack ran dry despite her attempts to husband it, and she began to use the heavy lasgun as a club, 'but I appreciate the thought.'
'You're welcome,' I said, my laspistol giving up too, and swept the chainsword at the 'stealer. We only had seconds left now, but I was determined to take as many of the abominations with me as I could. Time slowed and stretched, as it generally seems to under this sort of circumstance, and I found myself suddenly aware of a rising shriek, which grew in intensity and volume. I flicked my gaze apprehensively at the nearest tunnel mouth, anticipating the sudden appearance of some fresh horror, a screamer-killer perhaps 5 - nothing would surprise me now... except for what actually happened next. With a rumble like thunder, and a sudden burst of ozone which left the hairs on my arms tingling upright 6 , the roof over our heads vaporised in a burst of light so dazzling I was left blinking after-images from my retina for several minutes. Shards of carbonised debris pattered around us, but fortunately nothing of any significant size actually hit; the turbo laser must have struck the ground above us full on, to leave nothing larger than a few handfuls of gravel behind.
'What the hell was that?' Mira yelled, as the noise suddenly redoubled without the intervening layer of brick, earth and rockcrete.
'It's the Thunderhawk!' I bellowed back, recognising the distinctive silhouette as it flashed past overhead, its shadow momentarily eclipsing the open pit we now found ourselves in. A second later the screaming of its engine was suddenly punctuated by the distinctive staccato rhythm of heavy bolter fire, and the hybrids scattered, racing for whatever refuge they might find in the surrounding tunnels, while the genestealer exploded messily just before closing to contact with us. 'And the Astartes!'
The unmistakable bulk of the Terminators I'd seen taking the heretic artillery position apart were lumbering into position around the rim of the pit, pouring fire from their storm bolters into it, while the hybrids fled and died in droves. This was hardly a comfortable position to be in, even given the phenomenal accuracy of the Space Marines, but they picked off their targets without even coming close to us, and in any case the firing died away about as quickly as you might expect, given how rapidly they ran out of targets.
Mira and I stared at one another, grinning like idiots, not quite able to believe how narrowly we'd escaped with our lives and souls intact.
'It seems I owe you an apology,' she said after a moment, her generous decolletage heaving with emotion. 'I should have listened to your advice and stayed behind.'
'Under the circumstances,' I conceded, 'I can only be grateful that you didn't.' Now they'd run out of things to kill the Terminators were advancing into the pit, mainly by the simple expedient of jumping, which was creating a series of minor tremors in the ground. How they were intending to get up again, I had no idea 7 .
Mira eyed me speculatively. 'I'm sure we can find some way of making it up to each other,' she said, in a manner which made it abundantly clear just what kind of reparation she had in mind. I nodded, the prospect seeming distinctly appealing at that point, and Emperor knows I felt I'd earned it.
'I'm sure we can,' I said, then turned to the Terminator in charge, easily recognisable by the powerblade he was carrying along with his storm bolter. 'Thank you, sergeant. Your intervention was most timely.'
'Your death while a guest of the Reclaimers would have been an affront to the honour of our Chapter,' he told me, the sepulchral tones of his kind issuing from the vox unit of his helmet. I was used to the timbre by this time, but Mira was clearly startled, flinching visibly as he began to speak. 'We made what haste we could to the source of your signal.'
'Then I'll do my best to keep your honour upheld,' I said, feeling oddly disconcerted by the dispassionate statement. The other Astartes were fanning out, weapons at the ready, poking at the fallen bodies of the genestealers and the hybrids. I gestured to the remains of the nearest, drawing the sergeant's attention to it, although I had no doubt that the voxes built into the Space Marines' helmets were already humming with the news. 'Especially now things have become a little more complicated.'
Editorial Note:
The Reclaimers' arrival on Viridia had proven to be as brisk and decisive as intervention by an Astartes Chapter generally is, and news of their coming spread rapidly. Though, in those first few hours, their presence had been confined entirely to the planetary capital, the effect on the rest of the planet had been profound; something Cain, as usual, doesn't bother to mention, any more than he does the rest of the retailing of Fidelis.
Since my readers cannot be presumed to share his lack of interest in the bigger picture, the following extract has been appended.
From The Virus of Betrayal: The Cleansing of Viridia and its Aftermath by Lady Ottaline Melmoth, 958.M41.
THE ARRIVAL OF the Astartes was as welcome to the loyal servants of the Emperor as it was startling, many of the faithful taking their advent as a sign of His special interest in our blessed world. Indeed, many services of thanksgiving were begun in temples and chapels around the globe even before their first battle was concluded. Not that this made any difference to the fervour of the celebrants: for them, the coming battle to cleanse Viridia of heresy and worse seemed little more than a formality, since the whole galaxy knows that His Space Marines are the strong right hand of the Emperor Himself, and that once they embark on a quest in His holy name, the task is as good as done 8 .
The Astartes made their first landing in Fidelis, at the palace of Governor DuPanya, losing no time in breaking the heretical siege lines which had kept the Emperor's anointed custodian of the planet confined and powerless to intervene directly in the constant turmoil of civil strife which had done so much to mar the fair face of Viridia. This done, he immediately took up the reins of his interrupted stewardship, while the Astartes swept on to even greater victories. The cathedral, always a beacon of hope in those desperate times, and therefore under constant threat from the dissident elements, was liberated within the hour, as was the shrine of the Omnissiah, freeing the tech-priests to begin ministering to the city's wounded machine-spirits with the utmost dispatch.
Perhaps the most desperate battles were those to eliminate the artillery batteries which the rebels had set up to prevent a mass landing of Imperial Guard troops, which, if left in place, would have taken a terrible toll in lives and resources. The crucial importance of this assignment can be deduced from the fact that the mission to remove one was led by the commander of the Astartes expeditionary force and his personal guard, while the task of placing a beacon to guide the teleporting strike team which destroyed the other was entrusted to none other than Commissar Cain, accompanied by Colonel Mira DuPanya, the governor's youngest daughter and a formidable warrior in her own right.
It need hardly be said that both missions ended in unqualified success, with the complete destruction of the designated targets, although one was to have unexpected and serious consequences. DuPanya and Cain's reconnaissance en route to their destination had revealed the true nature of the enemy we were facing, and, for the first time, the full extent of the hideous conspiracy gnawing away at the fabric of our society (quite literally, it seemed) became clear.
SEVEN
THE NEXT FEW days passed in a predictable blur of briefings, conferences and occasional bloodshed, as the full extent of the genestealer cult's reach became clear. Not to put too fine a point on it, the bloody things were everywhere, from the local Arbites 1 to the sanitation workers' guild, and winkling them out was a job I felt heartily glad hadn't landed in my lap. Fortunately the Guard troopships had arrived in-system on schedule, bringing a mixed bag of Tallarn, Vostroyan and Caledonian regiments with them, so there was no shortage of outsiders unquestionably free of the xenos taint to start rounding up suspects and begin the screening process.
'The trouble is,' Mira said, on one of her periodic social visits to my quarters, 'that means pretty much the entire population.' She shrugged, setting up interesting ripples in the fabric of the gown she was almost wearing, and leaned forwards to study the regicide board on the table between us, giving me the opportunity to fully appreciate the effect. She was an enthusiastic, if somewhat direct, player, an attitude she seemed to bring to all her recreational activities, and despite us having got off on the wrong foot, a surprisingly congenial companion. At least for the short time I expected to remain on Viridia. I could see her innate self-centredness would grow wearying after a while 2 , although I suppose, given her upbringing, that was hardly her fault.
'The crucial thing is to purge the most influential institutions as quickly as possible,' I told her, drawing on what I remembered of the Keffia Campaign, in which all the policy stuff had taken place so far above my head it was practically in the stratosphere: in those relatively carefree days, all I'd had to worry about was rounding up the defaulters, watching our Earthshakers lob shells at an enemy too distant to shoot back, and avoiding Colonel Mostrue's occasional attempts to manoeuvre me into the firing line. (Apart from getting sucked into a stand-up fight with a horde of genestealer hybrids uncomfortably reminiscent of the one Mira and I had so recently faced together, of course.) 'Starting with the Guardians and the PDF.' Because the sooner the Viridians could begin cleaning up their own mess, the sooner I'd be able to get back to brigade headquarters and away from anything wanting to kill me; at least until General Lokris found another insanely risky errand to lob in my direction.
The Reclaimers would hardly want to hang around once the initial flurry of action had subsided, and the back of the rebellion had been pretty much broken already. There were still a few units of PDF mutineers out there, either composed of hybrids and implanted humans under the sway of the brood mind, or clinging to the ideological twaddle they'd been fed to get them to join the revolution in the first place and unwilling to admit they'd been duped by xenos, but they were hardly going to last long against Guardsmen, let alone the Emperor's chosen warriors. Gries had made no secret of the fact that he intended pulling out to look for a more interesting war as soon as the Reclaimers had finished cleansing the offworld habs, and when the Astartes left Viridia my assignment would go with them, as there would hardly be any need for them to continue liaising with the Imperial Guard.
In the meantime, I was far more comfortable than I'd any right to expect. Mira had prevailed on her father to find me a guest room in the palace, citing the need to keep me on hand as a military advisor with experience of genestealer infestations, and if he was aware of her real motives the governor was enough of a gentleman to affect ignorance of them. In fact the accommodation was too luxurious, if anything, and I'd taken to sleeping on one of the couches, the bed being too soft for me, at least for its intended purpose.
'I suppose so.' She turned one of my ecclesiarchs, effectively surrounding the king with her own pieces, and sat back, looking smug. 'My game, I think.'
'It looks that way,' I said. In truth I could probably have turned it round again in a couple more moves, but the ensuing end game would have been tediously protracted, and Mira's inevitable sulk at being made to look foolish would have put a damper on the rest of the evening. Whereas resigning now would leave her in a good mood, and ready to move on to the more enjoyable pursuits we both knew were the real reason for her visit.
So it was with somewhat mixed feelings that I heard the door of my suite bang closed, followed by the unmistakable clatter of an overstuffed kitbag falling to the carpet. Mira's eyes widened, in much the same fashion as they had when she first caught sight of the genestealers, and even before a familiar odour drifted past my nostrils I would have put a considerable sum of money on what I'd find when I turned round.
'Jurgen,' I said, a degree of warmth which surprised me elbowing its way into my voice. 'How in Terra's name did you get here?' He looked just as unprepossessing as I remembered, as if a nurgling had somehow become entangled with a random collection of Guardsmen's kit, but I was delighted to see him again nevertheless.
'On one of the troopships,' my aide said, picking his nose thoughtfully, taking the rhetorical question as literally as he did everything else. 'Then I got on the first shuttle down. The general wasn't happy about it, but I told him I was with you, so they found room.'
'I'll bet he did,' I said, knowing all too well how obdurate Jurgen could be in pursuit of whatever he conceived to be his duty, irrespective of any difference in rank or status between him and the unfortunate target of his ire. I've no doubt that without the protection the quasi-commissarial credentials his position as my aide conferred, he would have been shot on the spot for insubordination innumerable times. I indicated my guest, who seemed even more astonished that I apparently knew this apparition than she had been by his original appearance. 'This is Milady DuPanya, daughter of his Excellency, and a senior officer in the PDF. Mira, my aide, Gunner Jurgen.'
'Pleased to meet you, miss,' Jurgen said, mercifully too distant to proffer a hand. Unable to reconcile her evident civilian status with what I'd told him about her military rank, he raised a hand to the straggle of lank hair escaping from under his helmet in something between a wave and a salute, before scratching his head in perplexity. 'I thought you were with the Astartes, sir.'
'Liaising with them,' I said. 'But the main PDF command centre's here, in the palace, which means it'll be the centre of the Guard operation as well.'
'I see,' Jurgen said, nodding judiciously. 'So you need to be here, really. For this liaison thing to work.'
'It's a lot more convenient,' Mira said, stifling giggles. 'For the liaison thing.'
'Yes, it is,' I said, a little more shortly than I'd intended. Jurgen and I had been through a lot together, and he'd already saved my life more times than I could count. I was used to people judging him by his unprepossessing exterior, but Mira's thinly veiled mockery raised my hackles. Perhaps fortunately, they were as thick-skinned as one another in their own fashion, and she remained as oblivious to my disapproval as Jurgen did to her amusement. 'We'll have to find you some quarters.'
'That won't be a problem,' Jurgen said, rummaging in his kitbag. 'I've got a bedroll.' He started looking round the lavishly appointed drawing room for somewhere to spread it out.
'I'm glad to see you're as prepared as ever,' I said, trying not to picture the shambles he'd reduce the elegant chamber to within a day of settling in, not to mention the disruption his presence would cause to my continuing to liaise as happily as I had with a particular honorary colonel of the Household Regiment. 'But I'm sure we can make you a little more comfortable than that.'
'Of course we can,' Mira said, rallying at last and recomposing her features. 'The guest suites in this wing have servants' quarters attached.' She indicated a locked door on an inner wall, which I'd assumed on moving in simply connected to an adjoining suite like my own, for the benefit of guests needing a bit more space to sprawl. 'You can use those.'
'I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble, miss,' Jurgen said, apparently under the impression she was proposing to take care of the matter herself.
Mira shook her head. 'It's no trouble,' she assured him, with a commendably straight face. 'The main door from the corridor should still be unlocked, for the cleaners.' For whom, though I'd never seen them, I felt a sudden pang of sympathy. 'And we can get the majordomo to open that one in the morning.'
She glanced a wordless question at me as she indicated the connecting door, and I nodded. Despite his slovenly appearance, and the miasma of ripe socks which hung about him, Jurgen's discretion was considerable; he wouldn't intrude without good reason. Not to mention that, with a genestealer cult lurking in the woodwork, I'd sleep a great deal more soundly knowing my aide and his lasgun were within earshot. I always kept my own weapons to hand, of course, but it was surprisingly comforting to know that once again I had back-up I could rely on completely. In fact it's hardly an exaggeration to say that I only fully appreciated how much I'd missed it once Jurgen materialised so unexpectedly in my quarters.
'Then, if there's nothing else, sir, I'll turn in,' my aide said, stooping to gather up his kit.
'Probably best,' I told him. 'Now the Guard have arrived, we're in for a busy day tomorrow.'
'Almost certainly,' Mira agreed, as the door clicked closed, leaving only the lingering trace of his presence hanging in the air like an odiferous phantom. She raised a speculative eyebrow at me. 'Perhaps we'd better get on with some liaising while we still can.'
WELL, I HADN'T been wrong about the effect the sudden arrival of a few score thousand Guardsmen was going to have on the planet, and my peace of mind. Now there was an actual Imperial Guard force in the system to coordinate things with, Gries began voxing me rather more frequently than once a day, and at greater length than the terse exchanges we'd grown used to, which had largely consisted of exchanging the tally of 'stealer spawn bagged by his Astartes (high) and Orten's PDF (pitifully low) since the last communique. Given how compromised the PDF were, Gries had decided to set up the Reclaimers' operational headquarters at the Adeptus Mechanicus shrine, where, I gathered, he and his men had been made as welcome as outsiders ever were by the disciples of the Omnissiah. As yet I hadn't ventured across the city to join them, feeling that my duty required me to stay as close as possible to the PDF command bunker, and the rather less spartan accommodation offered by the palace.
