Sebastev’s stomach rambled quietly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since daybreak. His appetite was starting to come back, but his complaining stomach would have to wait.
“This honourable council,” continued the general, “has listened carefully to all that has been put before it. We have consulted with learned bodies and scoured the histories of our proud military past for precedents.”
Sebastev caught Old Hungry casting his glance to the two strange figures on the balcony, just as he had done throughout the trial. It was further confirmation of something Sebastev suspected: General Vlastan was terrified of the strange pair.
Just who are they, he wondered, and why are they here for this?
The general continued, but Sebastev was sure he detected a loss of confidence in the man’s amplified voice. “We have reached our conclusions and shall now make our pronouncement. In the name of the Emperor of Mankind, and the honoured tradition of the Vostroyan Firstborn who serve in his name, I now address Captain Grigorius Sebastev of the Sixty-Eighth Infantry Regiment’s Fifth Company.”
As was the form, Sebastev saluted the Twelfth Army leader.
“Captain Sebastev,” said the general. “It has long been held by many worthy officers in the Twelfth Army that your field commission to the rank of captain was a grievous and reproachable error on the part of Major Alexos Dubrin. Indeed, some of your senior officers consider your appointment to the rank of captain little more than a favour from one friend to another. Naturally there is no room for such things in the ranks of the Firstborn, but the late Major Dubrin is beyond our judgement now. You, however, are not.”
Sebastev scowled and gripped the wooden railing of the dock. His knuckles whitened. He’d known all along that the man would make the most of this final, grand opportunity to offend and aggravate him.
“Of course, the matter of your promotion is not on trial. We must turn, instead, to matters of acceptable conduct and proper performance. A man in command has responsibilities to many, both above him in rank and below, but especially to those above. That, I’m afraid, captain, is the root of your worst transgressions.
“Throughout your career, you have consistently been shown to suffer from the regrettable delusion that it is your job to safeguard the lives of each and every one of the men under your command. Let me address that delusion by telling you directly, captain, that it is not so, nor has it ever been. The responsibility of any officer is both clear and singular: it is the execution of those orders given to you by your superior officers no matter the cost in blood, pain, lives or anything else you wouldn’t care to spend or endure.
“This regular prioritising of your men’s lives above all else constitutes a definitive failure on your part to live up to the duties, honours and expectations placed on you by men of vastly superior lineage, intellect and judgement.”
A sharp sound echoed through the great hall. Sebastev flicked his eyes to the source. The alabaster giant sat glaring at General Vlastan, but it was the old woman next to him who’d interrupted the general’s speech. She had struck the floor of the balcony with the metal-shod heel of her walking stick.
A long moment of silence stretched out, during which Sebastev watched the general wither under the old woman’s gaze before finally turning back to face Sebastev. The general’s usual arrogance and confidence had bled right out of him.
“As I was saying,” he said, shifting uncomfortably, “it is the opinion of some members of this military council that you, Captain Grigorius Sebastev, have consistently placed the lives of individual Guardsmen above the best interests of the Twelfth Army.”
The general was interrupted again by the sharp rapping of metal on wood. Sebastev followed General Vlastan’s eyes as they again darted over to the tiny old woman.
“By the Throne,” snapped Vlastan, immediately regretting it. With obvious effort, he reverted to a more placatory tone. “Please, honoured madam, I have not forgotten your decree. If you’ll just allow me to finish what I was saying without further… interruptions.”
In response, the old woman folded her tiny, childlike hands and nodded from beneath the hood of her cloak. Sebastev couldn’t shake the impression that she was laughing, though no sound or motion gave evidence of this.
“Some members of this council believe that, for the role you played in the death of Colonel Maksim Kabanov, a greatly respected man among the ranks of the Firstborn, you should be precluded from any commission for the rest of your life. Others felt that the mere stripping of your rank was overly lenient. Extended incarceration and expulsion from the ranks of the Firstborn were considered as alternative punishments.”
This time, Sebastev had the impression that General Vlastan was deliberately trying to avoid glancing at the figures on the balcony.
“However,” continued the general, “the reality of our war against secession and treachery on Danik’s World has changed dramatically in the short time since Barahn and Ohslir fell. The Twelfth Army finds itself facing unprecedented pressure on two fronts, and this war has attracted the attention of certain Imperial bodies that wield a level of authority even greater than that of Twelfth Army Command. As such, this court is forced to acknowledge your part in the successful delivery of a valuable prisoner, the recovery of a device crucial to the continuation of the war effort, and the survival of a regiment whose long and unbroken history is filled with honour.”
General Vlastan’s brows knitted together in frustration as he continued. “There is also the matter of Commissar Karif’s testimony to consider. The statements made by the commissar go a long way to suggesting that your purported bravery, piety and prowess in combat were responsible for the deaths of a great many orks and rebels. With these things in mind, and at the insistence of certain high ranking individuals outside the Vostroyan military structure, this court decrees that you will retain the rank of captain.
“Henceforth you are charged with conducting yourself in a manner more fitting to your responsibilities. And to those responsibilities, this court now adds the command of all remnants of the Sixty-Eighth Infantry Regiment, until such time as an officer of adequate rank and potential can be found to replace you. Once this replacement has been selected, you will immediately revert to your former position as Fifth Company commander.”
Voices filled the air of the court as the spectators reacted to the council’s pronouncement. People began chattering, eager to share their opinions with those seated next to them. Sebastev looked for Commissar Karif, stunned that the man had spoken out on his behalf, but the commissar had already left his seat. He was nowhere to be seen.
Sebastev looked up at the balcony, but the strange duo had likewise vanished in the last few seconds.
General Vlastan cleared his throat and raised his voice over the hubbub. “Captain Sebastev, pay attention.”
Sebastev met the general’s glare.
“Your men are billeted in the city’s south-east quarter, district eleven. My staff will provide a map and arrange transportation for you. Twenty-eight men are listed as the last survivors of the Sixty-Eighth Infantry Regiment, captain. It’s not many, but I’m afraid there won’t be time to reinforce you before your next deployment.”
For the first time in over an hour, Sebastev parted his lips to speak. “Deployment?”
The panel of officers who’d acted as Sebastev’s judges rose at a gesture from the general and left the bench. General Vlastan’s chair gave a loud, mechanical hiss as its piston legs unfolded. The walking chair shook as it rose to its full height, causing General Vlastan’s abundant flesh to wobble.
The general’s lips stretched into a lop-sided grin. “I’ve always thought you disconcertingly short for an officer, Sebastev. A leader should be tall so that men are forced to look up to him, you know.”
Sebastev didn’t bother to respond to that. Instead, he met Vlastan’s gaze and held it.
The general’s grin dropped. “Yes, redeployed. The Sixty-Eighth Regiment, such as it is
, has been temporarily placed in the service of a higher authority. You’ll find out the rest for yourself soon enough. You’re no longer of any concern to me, at least for the moment.”
The general grasped the controls of his chair, turned it, and skittered out of the hall, leaving Sebastev speechless. A staff officer led him down from the dock and out through a side door as the rest of the court emptied.
Seconded to a higher authority, he thought? What in the twisted hells of the warp is going on?
Sebastev had a partial answer soon enough.
Commissar Karif awaited him outside the court, accompanied, as always, by his adjutant. As Sebastev walked towards them, he couldn’t fail to notice the wide smile on the young trooper’s face.
“It’s wonderful to see you, sir,” said Stavin with a salute. “I’m so glad everything… Congratulations on the verdict.”
Sebastev saluted back and said, “Thank you, trooper. At ease.” He met Karif s gaze. “As for you, commissar, I don’t know what kind of grox-balls you told them in there…”
Karif stiffened.
Sebastev fought back a grin, and added, “But thank you. Your presence in that hall over the last thirteen days is appreciated, I assure you.” He reached out and gripped Karif’s hand, shaking it firmly.
“I’m sure I’ll think of some way you can pay me back, captain,” said Karif with a smile and a nod. “Let’s walk together. There are many things we have to talk about.” Trooper Stavin fell into step a few paces behind them as they began their stroll.
“You’re not wrong, commissar,” said Sebastev. “I can’t work it all out. We’ve been seconded? To whom?”
From behind a thick marble pillar on the left, a voice rumbled. “Seconded to us, captain, and I promise you, you’ll soon wish it weren’t so.”
Sebastev gasped as the alabaster giant from the balcony stepped across their path. The huge man wore a simple black tunic, cinched at the waist with golden rope. The contrast between his robe and his deathly white skin was striking. His blood-red eyes, so strange and unnatural, fixed on Sebastev’s own, measuring him, freezing him where he stood.
Karif and Stavin halted at Sebastev’s side, but their reaction was muted. They hardly seemed surprised at all. Karif looked at Sebastev and shook his head. “My first reaction was exactly the same, you know, captain.” He raised a hand, palm up, and gestured towards the giant man. “May I present Brother-Sergeant Ischus Corvinnus, of the Death Spectres Space Marines.”
“By the Throne!” muttered Sebastev.
The brother-sergeant lifted his massive hands to his chest in the sign of the aquila, offered a shallow bow, and boomed, “Good beginnings, Captain Sebastev. There will be time to become acquainted later perhaps. Your new commander is waiting to brief you on urgent matters even as we speak. Let us not dally here.”
Sebastev was still speechless. An Astartes, he thought. Here!
“Come on, captain,” said Commissar Karif, “we should get moving.”
Sebastev felt Karif nudge him, and wrestled with his sense of awe.
“Follow me,” said the Space Marine as he turned and led the way. “Milady’s patience is famous only for its tiny measure.”
As Sebastev, Karif and Stavin struggled to keep up with the giant Astartes warrior, Sebastev felt his mind racing, trying to understand just how much the war had changed. The Death Spectres Space Marines were here, and something had forced General Vlastan to release Sebastev into the service of another authority: this “lady”, of whom the Space Marine spoke with obvious respect.
Surely it’s the old crone from the balcony, thought Sebastev. If the Astartes are here…
“Well?” asked Karif. “Aren’t you going to answer?”
Sebastev shook himself. “Sorry, commissar. I didn’t catch the question.”
“I asked you how you felt about returning to active duty so soon. That farce of a trial… I’m sure you’re eager to get back to what you’re good at.”
Sebastev thought of the men he’d lost, the friends he’d watched die. He levelled his gaze at the commissar. “If you’re thinking I want revenge for the men we lost, commissar, you’re damned right.”
The Space Marine turned his head just a fraction as he listened to Sebastev’s words.
Commissar Karif smiled and nodded sagely. “That’s the spirit, captain. I would expect no less from a fighter like you. After all, what would men like us do without a good old-fashioned war?”
A Transcript
Source: Partial Audio Feed from Pict-Recording 22a.1F31
Originator: Inquisitor Zharadelle Inphius Faulks (OM/613-7980.1 SC.3)
Date of Recording (Imperial): 5.232.767.M41
Location: Twelfth Army Command HQ, Seddisvarr, Danik’s World, Gamma Kholdas, Kholdas Cluster, Segmentum Ultima
Faulks: “Try again. What is your name?”
Asset 6: “I told you, damn it all. What do you want me to say? I’m Patriot-Captain Brammon Gusseff of the Special Patriotic Service, attached to the—”
Faulks: “Brammon Gusseff is a construct, nothing more. He’s a role you’ve played perfectly for the last four years, but it’s over now. Stop resisting. You’re just making this more difficult. Oh, to the warp with this. I want the witch brought in. The drugs aren’t enough.”
Asset 6: “Witch? Please, I-I don’t understand. What do you want? I’ve given you the codes for the case. You have the jamming device. I was promised immunity!”
Jardine: “You summoned me, milady?”
Faulks: “Get to work on him. The last program is rooted too deep. If you can’t draw him out, he’ll have to be retired. This one is a highly prized and decorated asset, so do your best. Understood?”
Jardine: “Yes, milady!”
Asset 6: “Who in the warp are you? Please, get me out of here. The old crone is insane. I-I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
[2 hours 11 minutes of audio censored under security directive 15.331C]
Faulks: “Take a drink. You’re shaking quite badly.”
Asset 6: “So would you be, warp damn it. The things I do for the Imperium…”
Faulks: “Quite. And we’re very grateful, lieutenant. It’s good to have you back. For a while there it looked like that last graft was going to be permanent.”
Asset 6: “At which point, you’d have killed me, inquisitor!”
Faulks: “But I wouldn’t have relished the task. Now please, for the records this time, name and rank!”
Asset 6: “My name is Lieutenant Pyter Gamalov, Vostroyan Firstborn, Office of Special Operations, Twelfth Army Division!”
Faulks: “Excellent, lieutenant. Now I need to know just how much of Gusseff’s memories you have access to. How close were you able to get to Vanandrasse? What’s wrong, lieutenant? You’re shaking. Why the tears?”
Asset 6: “You’re going to make me remember everything, aren’t you? Every act he perpetrated while I was with him!”
Faulks: “As always, lieutenant. It’s how you serve the Emperor!”
Asset 6: “But this one, milady. Oh, Throne above, no. This Gusseff… I… he did such terrible things!”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born and raised in Edinburgh, Scotland, Steve Parker now lives and works in Tokyo, Japan. As a videogame writer/designer, he has worked on titles for various platforms. In 2005, his short fiction started appearing in American SF/fantasy/horror magazines.
In 2006, his story The Falls of Marakross was published in the Black Library’s Tales from the Dark Millennium anthology. Aside from writing, his interests include weight-training, non-traditional martial arts and wildlife conservation. Rebel Winter is his first novel.
Scanning and basic
proofing by Red Dwarf,
formatting and additional
proofing by Undead.
Steve Parker - (ebook by Undead), [Imperial Guard 03] - Rebel Winter
[Imperial Guard 03] - Rebel Winter Page 24
