1_For_The_Emperor

by Sandy Mitchel

  They'll have to/ Amberley cut in. 'Whatever happens, the Guard must not get sucked into an open war with the tau.'

  'Understood/ Kasteen said. It must have been galling for her, though, and the strain was clear in her voice. Being forced to stand by and do nothing while an imperial city burned, and xenos massacred the citizens with impunity was probably the hardest thing she ever had to do.

  'Well, that's something/ Amberley said, as the vox link went dead. 'At least there's still hope.'

  'Hope for who?' I asked, trying not to think of the civilians who, even as we stood here, were losing their homes and their lives. I'd be the first one to admit that I'm a self-centred hedonist, but even I felt a surge of sympathy for their plight.

  'For half the segmentum/ Amberley replied, sounding suddenly weary, and for the first time, I had an inkling of the terrible weight of responsibility her calling imposed. 'You need to focus on the big picture, Ciaphas. Emperor knows, sometimes that's hard/ Moved by an impulse I couldn't explain, I took her hand for a moment, imparting what moral support I could through simple human contact.

  'I know/ I said. 'But someone has to do it. And today that someone is us/

  Amberley laughed, only slightly forced, and squeezed my palm for a moment before letting go.

  'That was completely ungrammatical, you realise/

  'Never my strong point/ I admitted. It was strange, now I come to recall it, but her use of my given name seemed so natural I never thought to be surprised.

  Shortly after that, we lost contact with the surface entirely. Or at least I did, and if Amberley was still able to get a signal through she wasn't saying. Even though we were beyond all realistic hope of reinforcement in any case, I found the sensation profoundly dispiriting, and tried to concentrate on the job at hand. It was in one of these moments of distraction that I collided with Trebek, who had stopped suddenly in the tunnel ahead of me.

  .'What is it?' I asked, knowing that she wouldn't just freeze like that for no reason.

  'I thought I heard something/ she said. I cocked my head, listening hard, but couldn't make out anything over the scuff of our footfalls and our breathing. We were moving stealthily enough -these troopers had been hunting tyranids less than six months before in conditions not dissimilar to this, don't forget, and if there's anything in the galaxy more calculated to teach you caution than that, I've yet to come across it - but the multiplicity of hard surfaces around us magnified every sound we made, however slight, with dozens of overlapping echoes. And, paradoxically, the quieter we moved the louder we sounded to our own ears, straining all the harder to hear over it.

  So I issued the order to halt, and we waited tensely for the echoes to die away.

  There/ Trebek breathed after a moment. 'Hear that?'

  I could. It was the sharp crack of lasguns, and a similar, deeper note which sounded both familiar and slightly wrong. At the time I put it down to the echoes, but we were to discover the real reason soon enough.

  'Gunfire,' I confirmed. 'About half a klom that way.' I indicated the direction without thinking, before realising it lay almost dead on to Amberley's preferred route. Just great. Trebek looked a little puzzled.

  'Are you sure, sir?'

  Absolutely/1 said, before realising that no one else here would be quite so at home in these tunnels as me.1 Valhalla has its cavern cities, of course, but they're quite different to the average hive, with wide open spaces under well-lit roofs of rock and ice. It was perishingly cold too, the way the locals like it, but it takes all sorts to make a galaxy, and you can always turn up the heat in your hotel suite. (Not too much, though, as I discovered once, or you can end up with bits of the wall dripping onto your belongings.) Amberley took another look at her auspex, which was as quietly unhelpful as before.

  'If you say so/ she said. After a moment, the firing stopped, and a deeper, more unnerving silence

  1 Again, I can vouch from personal experience that Cain did have an almost uncanny ability to disentangle sounds from echoes in a confined space, his estimates of their sources being remarkably accurate in most cases.

  descended. We listened for a little while longer, but it soon became apparent that we would learn nothing more by remaining where we were, and Amberley urged us to proceed. Not having a plausible reason to go back, I agreed, and we moved on as before, though not without a considerable amount of trepidation on my part.

  It was about five minutes later that Kelp, who was still on point, held up his hand and halted.

  What is it?' I asked.

  'Bodies. Lots of them/ Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but there were at least half a dozen spread out across the large open space which the corridor had eventually led us into. It seemed to be a junction point of some kind because a number of other tunnel mouths led away from it, to all points of the compass, and by my estimation it had been used for storage or something quite recently. About a dozen stacking units had been broken open, though what they had contained was now a mystery, and the smashed remains of a glow globe showed that someone had been working here not too long ago.

  'Recognise this?' I asked Amberley, who was looking around with obvious signs of familiarity. She nodded.

  'This was as far as we got before/ she said. 'We came in through that corridor there/ She pointed to one of the other entrances. 'We took them by surprise, but there were more of them than we'd anticipated, and then the reinforcements showed up/ I spotlighted

  the nearest corpse with my luminator, a stocky fellow in work overalls with most of his chest missing.

  'Was he among them?'

  'I wasn't waiting around to be introduced/ she said. 'But I don't think so.' Her eyes glazed over for a second with the effort of recall. 'Rakel was having some kind of seizure, and then she took a las-bolt to the stomach. After that it got a little confusing.'

  The troopers were acting like proper soldiers,] noted absently, spreading out to secure our perimeter as best they could without waiting for orders, which was something at least, so I returned my attention to what the inquisitor was saying. This was the most she'd let slip about her previous excursion into these tunnels since we started, and I hoped to find out a little more.

  'What kind of a seizure?' I asked. 'Like the one she had when she saw Jurgen?' Amberley shook her head.

  'No/ she said slowly, 'that was something quite different. I'm still not sure what it means.' But she had her suspicions, I could tell, even if she wasn't about to share them with me. She moved on rapidly, in a transparent attempt to change the subject, which vaguely surprised me, as I'd come to expect more subtlety from her than that. We were standing over there/ She pointed. 'Rakel had been getting more agitated the deeper we came, sensing something, but not really able to tell me what it was. Then as we got closer to the people here, it got worse/

  They were psykers too?' I asked, feeling even more uneasy, if that were possible. I'd encountered those

  before, and it had never ended well. Amberley shrugged, a delicate ripple of her shoulders.

  'Possibly/ Whether she was uncertain, or just being non-committal, I couldn't tell.

  'Sir. Inquisitor/ Holenbi gestured diffidently from the side of one of the corpses. 'I think you should see this/

  'What?' I moved to join him, Amberley at my side.

  This one was killed by something else/ He indicated the body, a young woman with a shaved head and a xenoist braid, who had apparently been eviscerated by a close combat weapon of some kind. I'd seen a lot of people killed the same way over the years, but the wounds the weapon had left were unfamiliar. That didn't necessarily mean much, of course-there are plenty of ways of mounting a blade, but there's usually a fair degree of consistency within a culture, and I hadn't seen anything here which looked that unusual.

  'I'm still trying to work out what killed the others/ I said. The wounds were too heavy for lasguns, even the hellguns we carried. I'd heard them being fired though, I was sure about that. By the insurgents, then; there were se
veral lying around close to the corpses, so it didn't need an inquisitor to join those dots.

  'It looks like plasma rounds to me/ Jurgen volunteered. The doubt in his voice told me how unlikely he thought it, though; plasma weapons were big, bulky, and unreliable, and took an age to recharge between shots. You'd have to be mad to arm an

  entire squad with them. Not to mention being rarer than an ork with a sense of humour. 'Plasma pistols, maybe?'

  'Maybe/ I conceded. Those were even rarer, but suppose someone had found a whole cache of them from the fabled Dark Age of Technology? That would be worth going to almost any lengths to protect, wouldn't it?

  'There's… something else/ Holenbi said, redirecting our attention to the dead woman. He looked a little green for a medic, I thought, then I noticed it myself. A large chunk of flesh had been ripped from her torso, as though by teeth.

  'Merciful Emperor!' I made the sign of the aquila almost without thinking. I hadn't seen wounds like that since my last encounter with the tyranids. Even then, though, a small dispassionate part of my mind recognised that this was different, something I'd never seen before. 'What in the galaxy could do that?'

  'Whatever it was, it didn't like the taste/ Amberley said, directing her luminator beam to a detached chunk of bloody flesh lying a few feet from the corpse. Holenbi turned greener, and eating his discarded ration bar earlier turned out to have been a bit of a waste of time for him.

  'I've got movement!' Sorel called from the entrance to one of the tunnels.

  Are you sure?' Amberley was looking at that bloody auspex again, and the screen was still blank. 'I'm getting no human lifesigns at all/

  What about abhuman ones?' I asked, and she shrugged.

  'It's only calibrated for-'

  A ball of light, eye-achingly bright, shot from the mouth of the tunnel Sorel was guarding, and exploded against an empty crate. Whoever the enemy was, they were upon us.

  Editorial Note:

  With the situation in the city deteriorating by the moment, Lord General Zyvan and the troops under his command were growing increasingly impatient to do something, notwithstanding the explicit instructions I had given to the contrary. Governor Grice's heavy-handed attempt to seize control of the imperial expeditionary force had tried their patience to the limit, and, as a man of honour, Zyvan clearly felt the slight of the accusations levelled against him. His subsequent actions may therefore be understood, if not entirely condoned.

  What follows is a summarised partial transcript of the meeting he held with the senior officers of the expeditionary force, taken from the hololithic recording made by the

  equipment in the conference room, supplemented by a few personal observations subsequently gleaned from some of those present: most notably savant Mott, who represented the Inquisition in my absence, Colonel Kasteen of the 597th Valhallan, and. Erasmus Donali of the Imperial Diplomatic Service.

  The lord general is clearly irritated at this point, but keeping his temper by focussing on the issue at hand. He begins by asking Colonel Kasteen to confirm the instructions I gave her over the vox link regarding the governor's demands.

  'That is correct, sir,' Kasteen replies, seeming cool and efficient despite being the youngest regimental commander present. Only someone very skilled at the interpretation of body language could detect her nervousness. 'You have complete command of this army by the express order of the Inquisition.'

  'Good.' Zyvan's voice is clipped and decisive. 'Then I propose to calm the situation by removing the primary cause of the problem.'

  'The inquisitor was also quite explicit that we cannot engage the tau under any circumstances.' Kasteen is clearly nervous here about appearing to contradict her commander, but her sense of duty outweighs the prospect of any personal consequences - a commendable trait which stood her in good stead throughout her career. Zyvan concedes the point.

  'I wasn't referring to the tau,' he reassures her, and everyone else at the table. 'I meant that cretinous excuse for a governor.'

  There is general approval of this proposal. Several of the officers present suggest courses of action ranging from arrest to assassination. Eventually, the mood calms as Mott outlines the Inquisition's position on the matter.

  'It does indeed appear that Govenor Grice is ultimately responsible for this situation,' he agrees. 'But there is still some ambiguity as to the degree of his culpability.' He begins to quote legal precedent at length, until Donali, who is familiar with the savant's peculiar mental processes, is able to steer him back to the topic at hand. 'In short,' he eventually concludes, 'we would rather have him available to account for his actions.'

  'If the Inquisition wants him, they can have him,' Zyvan says. 'But in my opinion, his removal is a necessary prerequisite to restoring the situation to any kind of stability,' Donali agrees.

  'The tau are also in agreement with this proposition,' Donali adds, which throws the meeting into turmoil for a few moments until Zyvan is able to restore order.

  'You've discussed it with them?' he asks.

  'Informally,' Donah admits. 'We still have a residue of goodwill, thanks to the actions of Commissar Cain, and I've been attempting to build on this. If we

  send troops to remove the governor, I believe they won't interfere.'

  'Tell that to the PDF!' someone shouts. 'Or the civilians they're butchering!' Donah stares him down.

  'They recognise the distinction between us and the local militia,' he says. 'By their logic, the PDF attacked them first, so they're fair game, and the civilians merely collateral damage. They can be persuaded that it's in everyone's interests to back off, I'm sure.'

  'I'd like to see how,' Colonel Mostrue of the 12th Field Artillery cuts in. Mott begins to explain.

  'Tau psychology is very peculiar by human standards. They crave stability, and are terrified at the prospect of any loss of order. In fact, it would be no exaggeration to say that, for them, it's as disturbing as we would find an eruption of Chaos.' This casual reference to the Great Enemy creates considerable consternation. Zyvan restores order with some difficulty.

  'So you're saying that the situation in the city right now is essentially their worst nightmare come true?' he asks. Mott agrees.

  'Anarchy, rioting, civil war between rival imperial factions, nothing fixed or reliable. If someone wanted to goad them into reckless behaviour, they could arrange nothing better.' A few of the more astute officers, Kasteen among them, pick up on the unspoken assumption behind those words.

  'If they're so panicked and disorientated,' Zyvan asks, 'what makes you think they'd give us the benefit of the doubt?'

  'They have this dogma they call the Greater Good,' Donah explains. 'If we can promise them that the governor's removal will improve the situation, they're as bound to let us try as we would be to accept an oath sworn in the Emperor's name.' The audio recording is swamped for a few seconds by sharp intakes of breath, and mutterings about heathen heresies. Zyvan brings the meeting back to order.

  'Very well,' he concludes. 'Make overtures to them, and see if they'll swallow it.' Donah bows and leaves, making the sign of the aquila. Zyvan turns to Kasteen.

  'Colonel,' he says. 'The 597th have been more deeply involved in these events than any other regiment, and your commissar seems to have the confidence of the inquisition as well as the xenos. If we can cut a deal with the tau, you'll supply the troops to carry the operation out.'

  Kasteen salutes, looking stunned, and manages to respond in the affirmative.

  TWELVE

  My enemy's enemy is a problem for later. In the meantime, they might be useful.

  – Inquisitor Quixos (attributed)

  I'm proud to say that, despite the suddenness of the attack, my intellectual faculties remained undimmed. Which isn't to say that I didn't dive for the nearest piece of cover the instant I realised we were under fire, of course. A level head is a fine asset on the battlefield, but not when it's been shaped like that by a fragment of shrapnel. As I drew my fait
hful laspistol, the analytical part of my mind was already assessing the positions of the troopers, and the nearest lines of retreat, but my chances of making it to one of the tunnel mouths without being blown halfway to golden throne seemed on

  the slim side of pitiful, so I decided to stay put behind the nice solid piece of piping I'd found. More enemy fire was pouring in on us by now, and to my horror, I realised that Jurgen was right. These were plasma weapons we were facing and even the heavy body armour we were wearing would be all but useless against it. I'd doused the luminator at once, of course, the others following suit, but the sun-bright flashes of the enemy weapons lit the space around us in a dazzling strobe that made my eyes ache.

  A bolt of incandescent energy burst against the metal piping close to my head, just missing my face with a spray of molten metal. If profanity was a weapon our assailants would all have been dead in seconds at that point, believe me. Stray pieces of debris ignited from similar accidents, suffusing the chamber with a flickering orange glow that only intensified my sense of disorientation.

  'Jurgen!' I shouted. 'Can you get a shot?'

  'Not yet, commissar!' He was tucked in behind a barricade of crates, the melta gun rested across it, covering the tunnel entrance. When they burst through he'd be able to catch them, but they didn't seem in any hurry to assault us, probably anticipating just such a contingency.

  1 have movement,' Sorel said calmly, sighting carefully down the barrel of his long-las. I noticed with some distaste that he'd concealed himself behind one of the corpses, lying prone and resting the barrel of the weapon across its chest as though it were a sandbag.

  'What are they waiting for?' Amberley asked. 'Last time they were on us like a rash by now.' She'd taken cover behind an upturned table a few metres away. My palms tingled. In my experience, people didn't change their strategies that radically, that quickly. Especially if they'd seemed to work the last time…