by Dan Abnett
“Be seated,” the colonel said. This hearing is called to order on the one hundred and ninetieth day of 776, by the grace of the God-Emperor. Let us commence without delay.”
The main hatch opened again, long enough to allow Ludd and Gaunt to enter, side by side. They strode smartly across to the small desk facing the half-circle of the dais, came to a halt beside it, and stood at attention.
“Junior Commissar Nahum Ludd, advocating for the defendant,” Ludd announced.
“So noted,” replied the colonel. “Have a seat, junior commissar. The defendant will remain standing.”
Ludd glanced at Gaunt, who was ramrod stiff, staring down the tribunal, then sat down behind the small desk.
“The defendant will identify himself,” the colonel called.
“Ibram Gaunt, colonel-commissar, Tanith First, serial number—”
“Your name is sufficient, Gaunt,” the colonel cut in. “At this stage, you have no recognised rank in the eyes of this tribunal. I am Colonel Gerrod Kaessen, and I will be presiding over the hearing today.”
“Was the lord general too ashamed to face me?” Gaunt asked.
Ludd jumped to his feet. “The defendant withdraws that remark, sir.”
Kaessen raised an eyebrow. “Do you, Gaunt?”
“If that’s what my advocate advises, sir.”
“For your information, Gaunt,” Kaessen said, flipping through some papers in front of him, “Lord General Van Voytz is unavoidably occupied at this hour, and has asked me to represent High Command interests in his stead. It would be unusual, don’t you think, for the supreme commander of this theatre to be directly involved in a comparatively minor tribunal hearing?”
“It depends what you mean by ‘comparatively minor’, sir,” Gaunt replied.
“Well, let’s see,” the colonel shot back. “Compared to… the ongoing prosecution of this war, for example?”
“The point is taken, sir,” Ludd replied.
“The point is also that Lord General Van Voytz is the sole reason I’m standing here today,” Gaunt said.
“How so?”
“Because he personally sent me on the Gereon mission, and only on his word have I not been executed for accomplishing said mission and returning alive.”
“Please!” Ludd hissed at Gaunt.
“I withdraw my last remark,” Gaunt said.
Colonel Kaessen pursed his lips. “Gaunt, do you recognise the authority of this tribunal?”
“I think, colonel,” said Inquisitor Welt quietly, “that is essentially what we’re here to establish.” Several of the commissars around the dais chuckled. Balshin leant over to whisper to Faragut.
“Very well,” said Kaessen. The defendant may be seated. Junior Commissar Ludd, you may begin with your opening remarks.”
Gaunt crossed to the desk and sat down beside Ludd. Gaunt was dressed in high black boots, black breeches and a simple black vest, all unadorned by rank pins or insignia. The cut sleeves of the tight vest showed the lean, corded power of his arms and upper body, and also the dozens of old scars, large and small, that decorated his flesh. He’d showered three times since his first meeting with Ludd, but still the dark grey stain of the Nihtganes’ camouflage paste lingered in his pale skin, like a faint, all-over bruise. He’d also shaved. The thick, stiff dreadlocks of his beard and long hair were gone, leaving a severe crewcut and a neatly trimmed goatee. The hair on his head and chin were a pale, dirty blond, like faded, slightly stale straw.
Ludd stood up with a dossier in his hand and cleared his throat. “If it please the tribunal, I would like to begin by reading a transcript record of the colonel-commissar’s career to date, making reference to the many meritorious—”
Faragut got up quickly. “Objection, colonel. Copies of the transcript record have been circulated to all the members of the tribunal. We are all perfectly familiar with it. Reading it aloud will simply occupy valuable time.”
“Colonel,” said Ludd. The record attests to the past character of the defendant.”
“The defendant’s past character is not in question,” Balshin put in.
“Duly noted,” said Kaessen. The objection is sustained. Move along, please, junior commissar.”
Ludd frowned and put the dossier back on the desk. He selected another. “In that case, colonel, I should like to read the defendant’s own, detailed statement regarding his mission to Gereon.”
Immediately, Faragut was on his feet once more. “Again, colonel. Cause as before. We have all been copied with this statement, and we have all read it.”
“Duly noted,” Kaessen repeated.
“With respect, sir,” Ludd insisted, “the matter of the Gereon mission underpins the entire nature of the hearing today. It cannot be glossed over.”
“The statement runs to one hundred and forty-seven pages,” Faragut said. “I must object to a simple recitation of—”
“Colonel?” Inquisitor Welt put in softly. “I have read Gaunt’s statement in full, as have, I’m sure, my worthy fellows. I’ve really no wish to hear such prepared material repeated out loud. However, I believe Junior Ludd’s point to be well taken. Perhaps, as a compromise, and pursuant to the interests of fairness, the defendant might be permitted to make a brief summary of the salient facts in his own words?”
“That sounds fair and practical, inquisitor,” Kaessen replied. He looked at Balshin. “Objections?”
“None, colonel.”
“Junior Ludd?”
Ludd bent and exchanged a few whispered comments with Gaunt before rising again to face the dais.
“The defendant is happy to comply with the inquisitor’s suggestion.”
Ludd sat down. Gaunt rose to his feet and began to speak.
“In the latter part of 774, my unit arrived here on Ancreon Sextus as part of the Fifth Army’s liberation contingent. We’d shipped in from Herodor after the scrap there. Shortly after our arrival, I was contacted by the office of the lord general, and summoned to meet with him. He told me he had a high-category mission that needed to be undertaken immediately. It was classified vermillion, and was on a volunteer-only basis. It involved the covert deployment of a specialist mission team onto the enemy-occupied world of Gereon. I agreed to lead the mission.”
“Just like that?” asked one of the ranking commissars.
“Naturally, I reviewed the requirements first,” Gaunt replied sardonically.
“Once you had, you accepted?”
Gaunt nodded. “It was clear the matter was potentially vital to the continued success of the Crusade on this front. Besides, I felt the lord general was asking a personal favour of me.”
“Why was that?” Faragut asked.
“The nature of the mission suited the skills of my regiment. The Tanith are experts at stealth infiltration.”
“Wasn’t there another reason?” Faragut pressed.
Gaunt shrugged slightly. “I believe it’s possible the lord general had a decent regard for my abilities, and the abilities of my soldiers. I’d like to think he asked me because he trusted me.”
“You had worked directly with the lord general before, isn’t that right?” Ludd put in.
“Yes,” said Gaunt. “Most particularly on Phantine in 772, and a year later on Aexe Cardinal.”
“In both instances, you served him well?”
“As far as I know, he was satisfied.”
“It’s fair to say then,” Ludd continued, “that you had become one of the lord general’s favoured commanders? He regarded you highly, and counted on your expertise during special circumstances?”
“I was honoured to enjoy the favour and friendship of Lord General Van Voytz,” Gaunt said.
Balshin rose. “None of that is disputed. General Van Voytz has imparted to me on several occasions that he considers the defendant both a close comrade and a friend. However, I believe Commissar Faragut was pressing at something else.”
“Such as, my lady?” Kaessen asked.
&n
bsp; Balshin looked down at Gaunt on the main floor below her. “Perhaps the defendant might describe the specific parameters of his mission?”
“I was just getting to that,” Gaunt said, totally at ease. The mission was to infiltrate the occupied planet Gereon, broker contact with the local pro-Throne resistance, and then locate and eliminate with extreme prejudice an individual held in custody by the archenemy forces.”
“And that individual was?” Balshin asked.
“The Imperial traitor General Noches Sturm.”
“Why was this important?” Balshin added.
“Sturm had been disgraced and was awaiting court martial when the archenemy captured him. He had been carefully mindlocked, so that the information in his brain could be reopened during the trial. It was a distinct possibility that the enemy might penetrate that mindlock and recover all manner of sensitive information from Sturm. Fleet codes, ciphers, deployments, tactics. If he could be opened up, he would surely betray significant Crusade strengths to the archenemy, resulting in catastrophe for our cause.”
“Indeed,” said Balshin. Tell the tribunal, if you would, why General Sturm was facing court martial?”
“For dereliction of duty during the siege of Vervunhive,” Gaunt said.
“Who found him so wanting at that time?”
Gaunt coughed slightly. “I did, ma’am.”
“You were the one who placed Noches Sturm under arrest and saw that he was charged?”
“Yes.”
“You were a colonel and he was a militant general?”
“Yes. I found him wanting in my capacity as an Imperial commissar, and removed him from command.”
“I see,” said Balshin. “And in your capacity as an Imperial commissar, were the charges against him valid?”
“Absolutely.”
“Let me get this straight,” Balshin smiled. “In the middle of a quite notorious siege, in the extreme heat of combat, you removed General Sturm from command… in your capacity as a commissar?”
“Yes, as I just said.”
“Under such intense circumstances, Gaunt, did you not consider that summary execution was more appropriate? In your capacity as a commissar, I mean?”
“I did not.”
“But it was quite within your power. Instead, you stretched vital reserves of manpower to keep him a prisoner.”
“An objection to the commissar-general’s tone and inference!” Ludd called out.
“Overruled,” said Kaessen.
“Gaunt?”
“It was also quite within my power to order his internment,” Gaunt said quietly. “I do not shrink from execution where it is needed, but I felt that Sturm deserved to face full court martial because of his status and rank.”
“So he was alive because of your judgement?” Balshin said. “Let me rephrase that… Noches Sturm was only alive to be captured by the enemy because you had let him live?”
“Yes.”
The entire jeopardy he represented when he fell into enemy hands was your fault?”
“Another objection!” Ludd cried.
“I made no error,” Gaunt growled. “Perhaps the fault lies with the office of the Commissariat for guarding him so unsuccessfully.”
“But isn’t it true that you undertook the Gereon mission because you felt it a personal failing that he had got away?”
“Objection!”
“Isn’t it true,” Balshin urged, “that Van Voytz asked you to undertake the Gereon mission because he wanted to give you the opportunity to clean up your own mess?”
“Objection! Colonel, please!”
“My last remark is withdrawn,” Balshin said, and resumed her seat.
Ludd had been on his feet throughout the last exchange. “Sir,” he said to Gaunt. “Who won the battle at Vervunhive?”
“The forces of the God-Emperor,” Gaunt said.
“And who was in command of them?”
“I was.”
“If you would,” Ludd said, “remind the tribunal of the official rating the Departmento Tacticae gave to the Gereon mission.”
“The status was EZ!
“Which is?”
“I believe the definition is ‘extremely hazardous/suicidal’.”
“There were twelve mission specialists on the team including yourself,” Ludd said. “How many did you lose?”
“None.”
“And was the mission successful?”
“Yes. We eliminated Noches Sturm at the Lectica Bastion. A confirmed kill.”
Ludd looked back at the tribunal panel. “Perhaps the defendant might resume his account of the mission?”
“So requested,” Kaessen said, with a nod to Gaunt.
“My stalwart advocate has rather ruined the ending, colonel,” Gaunt smiled. Despite themselves, several of the senior commissars on the dais smiled. So did Welt.
“That wasn’t the end of it, though, was it?” Faragut asked. “Once Sturm was dead, I mean.”
“No, commissar,” Gaunt said softly. “Before we set off, Lord General Van Voytz had made it plain to me that there was very little chance of extraction. It had been hard enough getting us in. Even if we survived, it was likely to be a one-way mission.”
“So you were stuck there?” Faragut pressed.
“Yes. Most of us were injured—”
“In what way?”
“The usual way. Enemy fire. Some of my team were severely hurt. We had also expended most of our munitions and supplies. We had little choice but to throw in our lot with the Gereon underground and serve the Imperial cause by adding our abilities to the resistance efforts. But we did this, I think, gladly. We had seen much of the privation levied on the planet. The Gereon underground was a proud, defiant, valiant force. We were honoured to help.”
“Isn’t it true you did more than help?” Ludd asked.
Gaunt shrugged.
“This is not a moment for modesty, Gaunt,” Inquisitor Welt called out.
“Very well, sir. The Gereon underground—which, I might add, had sacrificed great portions of itself to help us achieve our mission—was principally an under-equipped force of local citizens, reinforced by the military skills of a few surviving PDF officers. My team and I were able to spread our knowledge and our combat abilities. We restructured the underground in the Lectica area, and also in neighbouring provinces. We trained them in stealth warfare. For that, I would especially commend my scouts Mkoll, Bonin and Mkvenner. Trooper Brostin supervised the steady manufacture of makeshift flamer weapons. Sergeants Criid and Varl, along with myself, taught them cadre and fireteam drills. Major Rawne and Trooper Feygor travelled the cells, instructing them on demolition and explosives know-how. Vox-officer Beltayn, my adjutant, pretty much rebuilt the underground’s communication network. Trooper Larkin hand-trained a school of marksmen using captured las-locks, teaching them how to make the one, sure killshot you need with single-action weapons like that. Medicae Curth’s training became utterly indispensable to the underground’s needs. I would also, before this hearing, commend Gerome Landerson and Sabbatine Cirk, officers of the resistance, for their courage and determination at all times.”
“You paint a heroic picture,” Welt said.
“What about the partisans?” Ludd nudged.
“The Nihtganes, or Sleepwalkers, of the Untill region—” Gaunt began.
“The what?” asked Kaessen.
“The Untill, colonel,” Gaunt explained. “The untillable or un-navigable regions of Gereon, deep marshes mostly. The Sleepwalkers are surviving communities of the original colonists. Infamously separatist, they had been the bane of Imperial authority for many years. But Chaos was a common foe. A tribe of Nihtganes assisted us in our initial actions on Gereon, and later, principally through the work of Scout Mkvenner, we were able to enlist them in the resistance as elite troops. Without the Sleepwalkers, we would have failed on Gereon, both in our attempt on Sturm, and in the guerilla war that followed.”
“I’ve seen
your pet Nihtgane,” Faragut said. “Eszrah, isn’t it? Not the model Imperial citizen.”
“I would ask that you take that slur back, commissar,” Gaunt replied. “Eszrah ap Niht is the most loyal soldier of the Throne I have ever met.”
“Why do you say that, Gaunt?” asked Kaessen.
“Because he is loyal to me, sir.”
“This period of operation with the Gereon resistance, it was hard, wasn’t it?” Faragut asked.
“Yes,” said Gaunt.
“Demanding, I mean,” Faragut continued. “From your appearance alone, on your return… you were undernourished.”
“Food was in short supply. For everyone.”
“And you were deprived of many things. Soap, for example.”
“I won’t dignify that with a response.”
“Your clothing too, ragged…”
“As far as I’m aware, the nearest functioning Guard quartermaster was eight light years away.”
“Colonel,” Ludd said. “Please, is the defendant under scrutiny here because of his dishevelled appearance? That length of time behind enemy lines, it’s hardly surprising he was not parade muster.”
“A fair point,” Kaessen said. “Where are you going, Commissar Faragut?”
“There’s more to it, sir,” Faragut said. There is the question of taint. We all know that’s the heart of the matter. Dirty, bearded, ragged… that’s one thing. Gaunt and his team were living rough with the resistance. In many ways, the fact that they seem to… how shall I put it best? The fact that they seem to have gone native is understandable.”
“Under the circumstances,” said Gaunt, “it was vital.”
“But there are other, more concerning matters. The grey staining to your skin and hair—”
“We all adopted the Nihtgane practice of using wode. That’s their word for it. Essentially, it’s a skin-dye paste ground from the wing-cases of the swamp moths. It’s excellent for camouflage. Not only visually, but it masks scents too. We would treat our hair, clothes and skin with it. It has other prophylactic properties too.”
