by Dan Abnett
Gaunt noticed that Welt was making some hasty notes.
“But it’s difficult to get out. Even by scrubbing with carbolic” Gaunt paused and looked at Welt.
“Does it explain the elevated toxin levels found in your bloodstream and in the systems of your fellows?” the inquisitor asked.
“The moths are venomous, sir, yes,” Gaunt said. The paste allowed us to build up a tolerance to local poisons.”
“And anything else?” Welt asked.
Gaunt shrugged. “The Nihtgane believed that a more concentrated form of the paste could actually fight off Chaos-related infections. I wouldn’t know about that.”
“Did you see that done?”
Gaunt nodded. “Yes, with Trooper Feygor. To startling effect.”
“But ‘you wouldn’t know about that’?” Faragut asked.
“I’m no medicae,” Gaunt said. “I know what I saw. I know what it was like. Maybe the paste helped Feygor, all of us perhaps. But it may also have been a placebo. I believe the best way to fight Chaos taint is to be sound and determined of mind.”
“Are you saying,” said Faragut, “that you and your team came off Gereon untainted because you mentally refused to allow yourselves to become so?”
Gaunt looked at Ludd, who shrugged.
“Answer the question please,” Kaessen called.
“Yes,” Gaunt said. That’s an oversimplification, but I think it’s essentially correct. Though we suffered, and we were sorely tested, we rejected the corruption of the Ruinous Powers by force of will.”
Faragut glanced at Welt, who shook his head. Balshin rose instead. “If you were sitting in judgement here, Gaunt,” she asked, “would you believe a word of what you just stated to the hearing?”
“Knowing it to be the truth, lady commissar-general, I’d like to think I would.”
“And supposing you didn’t?”
“I don’t know. It’s an aspirational idea. One based on the notion of the essential incorruptibility of true Imperial souls.”
“Indeed. And that is how you see yourself and your team?”
“Yes,” said Gaunt.
“It’s interesting,” Welt said, rising as Balshin resumed her seat. “As you say, Gaunt, an aspirational idea. But isn’t it true that even the greatest and purest of men have, through the course of our history, been corrupted by the warp despite their soundness of heart?”
“History speaks of such things. But I think I’m right in saying that Urbilenk wrote that: ‘Chaos merely unfetters the dark quarters of the mind, unlocking that which was always there. True, pure minds have nothing that curse may use’.”
“You quote him well.”
“One of my favourites, inquisitor. I would also cite Ravenor, who said in The Spheres of Longing: “Chaos claims the unwary or the incomplete. A true man may flinch away its embrace, if he is stalwart, and he girds his soul with the armour of contempt’.”
“Fine words,” said Welt.
“I think so,” Gaunt replied.
“Even so, statistically—”
“My team and I were not tainted.”
“Because you and your team are somehow special? Exempt?”
“I believe the Ghosts of Tanith have been blessed by their interaction with the Saint,” Gaunt said.
“On Herodor, you mean?”
“Then, and before. I think perhaps… we’re especially hard to taint.”
Welt smiled. “You took inhibitors with you?”
“A fair supply. They ran out.”
“Before you left on the mission,” Welt said, consulting a dataslate, “is it not true that you consulted Tactician Biota for information as to how long you might reasonably last on a Chaos-held world before taint became inevitable?”
“Yes, inquisitor.”
“And to answer that, Biota referred himself to the Ordo Malleus, correct?”
“I believe so.”
“And what was the answer?”
“About a month,” said Gaunt.
“About a month. And how long were you and your team on Gereon?”
“Sixteen months.”
“It’s evident that your accent has changed, Gaunt. It has a timbre. A quality.”
“It’s the same for all my team. Living amongst the Nihtgane inevitably caused some alterations.”
“Do you acknowledge that the change in your accent is disconcerting?”
Gaunt shrugged.
“Do you acknowledge that it makes you sound like the archenemy?”
“No,” said Gaunt. “Though we all speak Low Gothic, the accents of the Imperium are many and varied. Ever spoken to a Vitrian, inquisitor?”
“I have.”
“What about a Kolstec? A Cadian? A Hyrkan? Ever heard the burr of a Phantine voice? The wood talk of the Tanith in full, mellow flow?”
“Your point?”
“Accents prove nothing. Would you execute us for a twang in our voices?”
Welt put the dataslate down. “Voi shet, ecchr setriketan.”
“Hyeth, voi magir, elketa anvie shokol,” Gaunt replied.
An ugly murmur ran around the room. Ludd stared at Gaunt with a queasy look on his face.
“You speak the language of the Ruinous Powers,” Welt said.
“One of them.”
“Fluently and naturally, it seems.”
“How long do you suppose the underground would have lasted if it didn’t learn the language of the enemy, sir?” Gaunt asked. “It was a vital tool of resistance.”
“Even so—” Balshin began.
Gaunt stared up at Inquisitor Welt. “You speak it well,” he said. “Why aren’t you down here with me?”
Welt laughed heartily. “Touche, Gaunt,” he said. He sat back down.
Immediately, Faragut stood again, opening his dossier. “You were embedded with the resistance for a considerable time,” he said.
“As I said, we were resigned to our situation.”
“Why, then, did you leave?”
“Because we had the opportunity to do so.”
“For what purpose, if you were performing such a vital service leading the underground?”
“I felt it was necessary to get the intelligence concerning Sturm off-world as soon as the chance arose. I also wanted to communicate other information to High Command.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the fact that the foul Magister Sek was using Gereon as a proving ground for his own elite shock troops. They are modelled on the Blood Pact. If anything, they are more vicious.”
“You know this how?”
“From fighting them and killing them,” said Gaunt.
“You think they present a tangible threat to the crusade?”
“How tangible is the Blood Pact, Faragut? If the Sons of Sek, as they are known, are marshalled into a proper fighting force, we will be in a shit-storm of trouble.”
Faragut paused, lost for another question. From his seat, Kaessen said, “Tell us about your evacuation from Gereon, Gaunt.”
“Gladly, sir. We had been planet-side and dug in for about sixteen months,” Gaunt said. “By then, the archenemy hold on Gereon had fractured a little. Not much, but enough to allow independent and rogue traders access to remote portions of the planet, conducting black-market runs. Also, they extracted civilian refugees who could pay. Beltayn and Rawne had developed this connection, in order to supply the underground with munitions, but the trade grew, even though the occupying forces dealt harshly with any traders they captured. I’ve seen more than one far trader ignite in orbit. However, it became possible for people to leave Gereon, if they were prepared to take the risks.”
“And you chose to take that route?” Faragut asked.
“I felt I owed it to my mission team. As I said, I felt I needed to bring word of Sturm’s death to High Command. Most particularly, I felt the Crusade forces needed to know about the Sons of Sek before it was too late.”
“So you left Gereon?”
&nbs
p; “It was hazardous. We procured a rogue trader, who then let us down five nights running. On the sixth evening, we managed extraction, but it was compromised. Enemy warships pursued us to the limits of the system.”
“And then?”
“Then a month’s transit to Beshun. The trader deposited us there, unwilling to risk the Imperial blockade at Khan Nobilis. We had no access to astropath communications, but I knew we needed to reach Ancreon Sextus.”
“Why?”
“We needed to reach Van Voytz. He was the only one who could vouch for us.”
“And what happened?”
“Liberty ships were coming in to Beshun, carrying refugees and survivors fleeing Urdesh and Frenghold. We got passage to Ancreon Sextus as part of a host of Guardsmen trying to rejoin the Crusade main force. On arrival, we were transported to the internment camp for processing. No one I spoke to would believe our story, or allow us contact with Van Voytz. We were told that the opportunity would arise at Camp Xeno, during processing.”
“Did that happen?” asked Ludd.
“It did not. But for the extremis actions of my team… and the interjection of my advocate here, we would have been executed without hesitation.”
“An objection!” Faragut cried.
“Withdrawn,” said Balshin.
An aide had entered the hearing room, climbed the dais and whispered into Inquisitor Welt’s ear. Welt looked at Colonel Kaessen.
Kaessen nodded. “That’s enough for now. We’ll resume at oh-eight hundred tomorrow. Hearing is in recess.”
SIX
08.10 hrs, 191.776.M41
Frag Flats HQ
Sparshad Combat Zone, Ancreon Sextus
The following morning, Balshin and Welt were late. Kaessen himself arrived almost ten minutes after the appointed start time, and apologised to the waiting commissars. “An unavoidable hold-up,” he said. “We will begin shortly.”
Gaunt and Ludd had been sitting at the defendant’s desk since just before eight. Ludd was sorting through various papers from his document case, and seemed ill at ease.
“Do you know what this delay is about?” Gaunt whispered to him.
“No,” said Ludd, a little too firmly. They choose not to tell me anything.”
Gaunt raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. He could tell Ludd was tense. For his own part, Ludd was trying to maintain a veneer of calm. He didn’t want his own edginess to rile Gaunt into further outbursts. But the night had not passed well. Three times he’d been summoned to see Balshin, each time quizzed on various aspects of Gaunt’s testimony. He’d spent half an hour alone reviewing the medical records. Something was going on, but the defence advocate was being kept out of the loop.
“When they put me back in the tank last night,” Gaunt said quietly, “I saw that Cirk had been removed. She wasn’t back this morning, either. Any idea what that means?”
Ludd shook his head. “I’m sorry. I asked, and was told she’d been removed for questioning by Balshin.”
“Isn’t that counter to the terms of the tribunal, Ludd? They said they’d be starting with me.”
“I know. It’s frustrating.”
“This is increasingly feeling like a scam to me,” Gaunt said. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Ludd?”
“No,” Ludd replied. “Except that there’s something they’re not telling either of us.”
Behind them, the heavy door of the hearing chamber drew open with a scrape of metal, and Commissar-General Balshin entered, escorted by Inquisitor Welt. Ludd and Gaunt rose to their feet, and the chamber guards came to formal attention.
“My apologies to the tribunal,” Balshin said as she stepped onto the dais. Then she turned aside and engaged Kaessen in a quiet, intense conversation. Welt took his seat. He was staring at Gaunt, and when Gaunt met his eyes, nodded briefly.
Balshin handed Kaessen a dataslate and then sat down. The colonel reviewed the slate’s contents and remained standing to address the hearing.
“I’ll keep this brief and simple,” he said. “I’d like to bring to the tribunal’s attention this edict.” Kaessen indicated the dataslate. “It was issued by the Commissariat at oh-seven forty-five this morning, and personally ratified by Inquisitor Welt on behalf of the Holy Ordos. It states that all charges and suspicions against Gaunt and his mission team are to be dropped with immediate effect.”
There was a chatter from the commissars around the dais. Ludd looked at Gaunt.
“The defendants will be released shortly into the hands of the Munitorum for dispersal. The members of the tribunal are thanked for their time and attention.”
“Sir?” Ludd said. “Are there terms to this edict?”
Kaessen nodded. “Gaunt and his team must submit to a full round of psychometric tests and interviews to assess mental health and combat readiness, and they must all make themselves available for thorough debriefings with Military Intelligence. There will then be a probationary period at the discretion of the Commissariat. Other than that, no. Junior Ludd, perhaps you’d stay with Gaunt until he’s been issued with appropriate credentials for this HQ.”
“Yes, sir.”
“By the grace of the God-Emperor, this hearing is closed.” Kaessen declared, and the commissars on the dais immediately rose and started talking in huddles as they left the chamber.
“I wanted to ask why the sudden change of heart,” Ludd confided to Gaunt, “but I didn’t want to tempt fate.”
“I know what you mean,” Gaunt replied. “But I think I’ll find out in due course.”
Colonel Kaessen approached. He saluted and held out his hand to Gaunt. “A good result, if unexpected,” he said as Gaunt shook his hand. “I’d not have been happy to be the man presiding over your demise, colonel-commissar.”
“Thank you, colonel. Any idea what happened to change events?”
Kaessen smiled. “I think you have a good deal of influence, sir. Powerful allies.”
“I see,” Gaunt replied. He looked past the colonel, but Balshin and the inquisitor had already left the chamber.
“The lord general’s waiting to see you,” Kaessen said.
Ludd located a watch officer, and had him issue a pass warrant for Gaunt. Gaunt fixed the small plastek badge to the front of his vest and then allowed Ludd to accompany him as far as the outer hatch of the lord general’s quarters.
Ludd paused at the doorway, anticipating—or at least hoping—that Gaunt might offer him some acknowledgement, perhaps even thanks. Gaunt merely glanced at him, a brief, almost dismissive look, and then walked on through the hatch without a word, leaving Ludd alone in the hallway.
Ludd looked down at the deck, ran his tongue around the front of his upper teeth thoughtfully, and turned to leave.
“Junior commissar?”
Ludd looked round. It was Balshin.
She beckoned to him with a curt hook of her fingers.
“A word with you, please.”
Van Voytz was at his desk in the inner office of his quarters, reviewing reports. As Gaunt entered, Van Voytz dismissed the group of aides and servitors and got to his feet as soon as they had left the room.
He walked around the desk until he was face to face with Gaunt.
“Shall we start again?” he said.
“I’d appreciate the chance, sir,” Gaunt replied.
“Any weapons you’d especially like to threaten me with?” Van Voytz asked.
“My lord, I never threatened you directly. I—”
Van Voytz held up his hand. “Lighten up. I’m joking. It’s over, Ibram. Done with.” The lord general gestured, and they sat down on the battered leather couches beside the desk.
“This is how it should have been,” Van Voytz mused. “Mission over and done, you reporting back to me, a quiet moment to savour your success.”
“Events conspired against that,” said Gaunt.
“They did. Look, if I could have spared you any part of that tribunal, I would have done. I have authority
, Ibram, extraordinary amounts of it, in some areas. But not in others. Discipline and security are not in my remit. You know how it works.”
“I remember how it used to work,” Gaunt said.
“Once you’d pulled that stunt in here, Ibram, it was out of my hands. I had no choice but to give you to Bal-shin. There would have been hell to pay, otherwise. I had to give you to Balshin, and while she was busy with you, find ways to get you cleared.”
“You did that?”
“I pulled some strings, called in a few favours. My last few favours, probably. Viktoria Balshin is possibly the most fanatical person I’ve ever met where it comes to issues of Imperial purity. She’s devoted her career to the suppression of taint, and won’t even let the slightest rumour of it pass her by. Admirable, of course, and understandable given the way things have gone this last year. But even she has a price. I had to give her something to make her drop the case.”
“What was that?” Gaunt asked, uncomfortable.
Van Voytz shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll be better off not knowing. All you need to know is… I made her a proposition. I contacted the office of the Warmaster himself, and got his personal endorsement for my proposal. Inquisitor Welt also supported it, which helped a great deal. I think Welt likes you, Ibram. Admires you.”
Gaunt frowned. “I don’t know why, sir.”
“Neither do I,” replied Van Voytz. “Who knows how the curious minds of Inquisitorial servants operate? He has his own agenda. Whatever, with the Inquisition and the Warmaster himself backing me, I had the sort of leverage that Balshin couldn’t ignore.”
“Are you saying the Warmaster himself vouched for my case?” Gaunt asked.
“On my recommendation. You look surprised.”
“I didn’t think he was even aware who I was,” Gaunt said.
“You’ve met him?”
“A handful of times, but I’m not senior staff, and I—”
“You’d be surprised what he remembers,” Van Voytz said. “Macaroth might be a very different animal to old Slaydo, but he’s still a Warmaster. He has the same skills, the same eye for detail, the same memory for those who serve the cause well, whoever they are. He remembers you all right, and he was fully appraised of the Gereon mission.”
