by Dan Abnett
Lord Anko, siting his new hive's foundations higher up the Hass waters from dead Vervunhive, planned to exploit the prometheum reserves once controlled by Vannick. Lady Chass, the first woman to govern a collective on Vervunhive, set her foundation in the grasslands far to the south and turned to mining and servitor engineering. Their future rivalry and confrontation would be long and complex, but is not pertinent to this history.
At the time, an air of disillusion fell hard on the survivors of Vervunhive. Many felt they had given everything in defence of the city only to see the city abandoned anyway. When this mood was made known to the war-master, he spoke publicly about his decision and made law an Act of Consolation.
The warmaster's staff faced a thousand duties as they tidied up the mess of the Vervunhive War. One of those was the prosecution of all those who had acted in a manner disloyal to the Emperor during that period of great hardship.
The reports of the Tanith Sergeant Varl, as logged by his commander, Gaunt, were sorted and processed by the Administratum during the latter stages of the purge. On day fifty-nine, prosecuting war-crime charges, Vervun Primary troops stormed the halls of Guild Worlin. Amchanduste Worlin was not to be found.
They say he wants to see you, Corbec said, leaning back against the sill of a vast stained-glass window in Medical Hall 67/mv.
He can wait.
I'm sure he can, Corbec grinned. He's only a warmaster.
Feth. They're really abandoning the hive after everything we did?
I think maybe because of everything we did. There's not much left standing.
Ibram Gaunt heaved himself upright on his cot. The pain of his shoulder and thigh wounds had long since faded, but the burning ache in his chest still plagued him. He coughed blood, for the third time since Corbec had arrived.
You should probably lie still, sir, Corbec ventured.
Probably, returned Gaunt. It was the sixty-second day. He had been unconscious for most of the previous month and had undergone repeated surgery to repair the wound Heritor Asphodel had dealt him. Gaunt still didn't know and never would if it had been dumb luck or fate that had saved him. The Heritor's bolt had hit him directly on the steel rose Lord Chass had made him wear. Though the collapsing petals had been driven into his chest, it was certain he would not have survived otherwise.
You heard about the Act of Consolation?
I heard. What of it?
Well, sir, you wouldn't believe the number of new Ghosts we've recruited.
Under the terms of the Act of Consolation, any disillusioned Vervunhiver anxious to leave Verghast to find a new life was offered the possibility of training for a place in the Imperial Guard. Upwards of forty thousand elected to do so. Some made their choice of unit a condition of their acceptance.
Motor convoys carried them north with the regular army to board bulk carriers that had put in at Kannak Port. Sergeant Agun Soric oversaw the embarkation of his brave Irregulars. All of them were yet to be issued with their Tanith fatigues and camo-capes. Soric moved past the ship's payload doors and greeted Sergeant Kolea, who had also joined up, along with most of his scratch company. Kolea was walking on crutches, his torso encased in mediplas bindings.
We'll never see it again, said Soric.
What?
Verghast. Take a last look.
Nothing here for me now anyway, Kolea said. Under his breath, he uttered a last goodbye to his lost wife and beloved children.
Half a kilometre away, Bragg supervised the loading of other Ghosts. Many, like Domor and Mkoll, were walking wounded. Along with the soldiers came the inevitable wave of camp followers, lugging their possessions: clerks, cooks, armourers, mechanics, women.
Bragg caught sight of Caffran leading a girl and two children up the ramp. One was just a babe in arms. He noticed that the girl, along with her piercings and surly look, wore the temporary badge of a Guard recruit. Another female trooper. Bad enough Kolea's fighting women had been given a place. Larkin would have a seizure.
Jumping down from his transit truck, Ban Daur took a last, wistful look at the land around him. He felt like a lost soul given one last chance to haunt the place that had raised him.
That was appropriate. He wasn't Captain Ban Daur of Vervun Primary any more. He was a Ghost.
I kept these for a long while, Ana Curth said. She held out the dog tags that had been in the pocket of her apron since Veyveyr Gate. I knew there would be no good time for you to see them, but maybe now
Dorden took the tags. He read them, sighing.
Mikal Dorden. Infantryman. Yes, I they told me
I'm sorry, Dorden. Really I am.
Dorden looked up from where he sat, his eyes wet with tears. So am I. You know I was the only Ghost to have a relative in the Tanith regiment? My son. A fragile, last link to the world we lost. And now that's gone too.
She held him to her as he shuddered and wept.
A door banged open and a guilder peered in at them. He was dressed in rich robes and had a driven intensity about his face.
Whatever you're looking for, it isn't in here, Curth told him, holding Dorden tightly.
Surgeon Curth?
Yes? What?
The guilder entered the swab-room. He smiled. I was looking for, erm, Surgeon Curth and Medic Dorden. He unfolded a scrap of vellum. I had a request to talk to me about that terrible incident at the carriage station weeks ago. God-Emperor, it was awful!
Curth let go of Dorden and turned round to the guilder.
I'm Curth, she said, stepping forward. Thank you for coming. I need to know: what did you see?
I want Dorden here too, before I speak, Worlin said.
That's me, Dorden said, rising and wiping his eyes.
Both of you? Dorden and Curth? Worlin grinned.
Yes? What did you want to tell us? What did you see?
Worlin pulled out his needle pistol and grinned. This.
Dorden threw himself at Curth as Worlin opened fire. The first shot punched through Dorden's right hand, the second through his left thigh. The third hit Curth in the shoulder and threw her across the room.
Worlin advanced on Dorden, aiming the sleekly murderous pistol, eyes burning.
Let's keep this between ourselves, doctor, he hissed.
A bolt round blew Worlin's head off in matted chunks. Gaunt, gun raised, limped into the swab-room, supported by the bewildered Corbec.
I heard shooting, Gaunt said as he passed out.
TWENTY
NECROPOLIS
Enough of this. Too many ghosts.
Ibram Gaunt, at Verghast
The outboards purred. The Magnificat lurched away from the dock into the middle of the Hass. It left behind a vast city-hulk still burning and smouldering. Folik steered them out, chasing the last tides of the day.
He left the bridge and dropped down onto the rear skirt of the old ferry, approaching the man in the long coat and peaked cap who leaned against the rail as if in pain. For a week, Folik had been ferrying Guardsmen to the north shore, the beginning of their long journey to who knew where next.
This was the very last run.
In the cabin seating, Dorden looked over at Curth, her shoulder bulked up by bandage.
Are you sure about this, surgeon?
Utterly. I've given Verghast all I have.
Dorden nodded.
So have you, Tolin, and so much more than me. I want to repay the Guard. Don't tell me you can't use another medic.
Indeed not, Curth.
She smiled sadly. I think, by now, it's all right for you to call me Ana.
* * * * *
It's a pleasure to have you aboard, sir, Folik said to Gaunt. You being the People's Hero and all.
Are you sure you're not getting me mixed up with someone else?
I don't think so. You're Commissar Gaunt, aren't you?
Gaunt nodded. He looked back across the Hass at the dead ruins of Vervunhive. They continued to burn in the low, morning light.
He took the shattered petals of the metal flower Dorden had cut out of his flesh and cast them out across the water.
Scanning, formatting and basic
proofing by Undead.
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