The Inquisition III

[Aqui]

That's a really cool idea Aquilanus - and it could totally fit into how I'm writing! Could it be that you really don't want any of the characters to end up dead this time around? (Death has a nasty way of permanently removing them from stories, after all)

 

Any favourites for who shouldn't die?

 

In a way I suppose I don't want any of them to die, although I have feel the least connection with Spider, but that's only because she's the newest one and I don't know enough about her to be "connected".

 

I suppose I'd be gutted if Nerf was killed, as I relate to him most of all with Godwyn second. I like Mercy, but as she's an assassin, she knows the consequences of her life and profession most of all. She isn't just "intimate" with death. She is death. Aquinas, I wouldn't be too shocked about as like Mercy he knows the path he walks and the dangers, but it would have to be one hell of an opponent(s) that lay him low!

[Taranis]

The only one I won't miss is Aquinas. His motives still remains unclear and I agree with Nerf about him. (The argument he had with Godwyn)

I'm actually growing fond of Spider. She is an innocent child with a terrible burden. I hope she makes it through.

 

Now I'm REALLY looking forward to the next chapters!

[Lady_Canoness]

Good feedback guys - it is very nice to know which characters are making a mark and how :)

 

__________________

 

*Part 17*

 

As they had agreed, Godwyn met again with Ernest Salbot two days after their first meeting. The unexpected nature of his uncle’s death had shaken him, but the young man seemed stronger for it. There would be no investigation and the authorities would not be informed, he said (likely because he would be the only suspect investigating foul play) and he fully intended to move the company away from Drumwell once his business with Godwyn and the T-41 had been concluded. The Inquisitor made sure to congratulate the younger Salbot on his change of heart and new-found resolve, though in the meantime pressured him into lower his asking price. There was no way he could refuse.

“I will be glad to leave this city behind,” Ernest said, well dressed in an expensive suit as he stood to shake hands with the woman across from him in his uncle’s office. “After seven generations now, I believe it is time that my family seek new beginnings.”

Gently grasping his hand with her bionic, Godwyn wished him well and took her leave. The high-capacity-carrier would be delivered to Princeton immediately without her supervision, giving the Cadian Major what he wanted sooner than expected. As far as Godwyn was concerned, leaving Salbot’s building with a satisfied smile on her face, it was clearly defined success.

 

The Inquisitor waited until the following day before she and her companions made their way through the tangle of empty city streets and decaying industrial zones towards the Cadian encampment at the rail yards. The sun was up and the air was warm, something Spider took as a good sign as they picked their way through rusting metal and crumbling rockcrete, while Nerf and the others generally agreed that it was better than being soaked with rain.

Arriving at the rail yards, however, Spider’s earlier optimism seemed to ring true as a group of uniformed Cadians looked to be waiting for them at the front entrance to the base. From Cadians, the greeting looked almost friendly, as there were no weapons were pointed at them when they arrived.

“Mrs. Godwyn,” the soldier the Inquisitor recognized as Lieutenant Hope stepped forward to meet them as Godwyn and her companions approached, “Major Princeton sends his regards. You’ve done us a service.”

As soon as she was close enough the Lieutenant proffered a hand for her to shake. Naturally grim, Cadians didn’t look friendly at the best of times, but the woman before her seemed to be making an effort. Keeping her trader’s disposition, Godwyn took her hand and shook it with a smile and returned the pleasantry.

“I’m proud to be of service,” she said, “might I introduce my company?”

Trying to be hospitable, the Cadian junior officer agreed and welcomed each of Godwyn’s companion’s with a firm handshake as the Inquisitor introduced them: Nerf, she was pleased to see, kept whatever animosity he held towards the Cadians at a minimum and managed a slight nod of respect in Hope’s direction as he took her hand.

“I take it the delivery was satisfactory?” Godwyn queried once all introductions were concluded and the Lieutenant started to steer them towards the base where six other Cadians stood waiting for them.

“Very much so,” Lieutenant Hope replied, leading them through the front door and motioning for the soldiers to fall in behind. “The Major is going over it right now with the EO. Once it is cleared, preparations will be made to leave immediately.”

“And I assume our deal with be honoured?”

The Cadian nodded, though she kept her eyes forward as she led them through the fortified interior of the base; “You and your crew will be enlisted as auxiliaries as agreed. At this time, however, Major Princeton has instructed for you and your crew to be billeted in the auxiliary barracks.”

Godwyn and her companions followed the Lieutenant to a large bunk room near the back of the base. No more than twelve feet across, but at least ten times that much deep, bunk-beds enough to sleep sixty men were arranged along the wall opposite windows lined with flack-board and reinforced with sandbags. Heavy-looking doors at each end opened onto the dorm, and the lingering brown scuff-marks going between them on the well-swept floor suggested that they were well used.

“You can stay here for the moment,” the Cadian officer said, letting the five step past her through the door as she and the other soldiers stayed outside. “Make yourselves comfortable. Someone will be along to collect you shortly.”

Leaving no space for rebuttal Hope closed the door after her, though Godwyn did not hear it lock.

“What do you bet they leave us here?” Nerf joked after a couple of moments of silence.

“That will not happen,” Aquinas replied, testing the give of a bunk mattress with his fist before deftly swinging his legs onto it and lying down on his back – the entire bed shifting and groaning under the space marine’s weight. Spider was watching him – his legs were well over the end of the bed – but eventually decided against whatever she might have said and sat cross-legged on the bunk beside his.

With a dry chuckle, Nerf swung his anti-materiel rifle off his shoulder and leaned it against the wall.

Mercy sprung to the top-level of one of the bunk beds and waited there on her knees, watching the Inquisitor intently.

Frowning to herself, Godwyn leaned against the wall with a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose between her human fingers. Having them wait was little more than a bother – a way to keep them out of the way while Princeton and his Cadians decided what to do. Nerf and Mercy wanted to explore their surroundings and were not content with sitting still – she could tell that much without even looking – but setting either of them loose could be an excuse for the Cadians to get rid of them, and would ultimately justify whatever doubts Princeton was sure to hold about their presence. Staying here was as much a test as it was a way of keeping them out of the way. Could the Cadians trust them? Godwyn would prove that they could, even if she had no such assurances leaning the other way.

Almost an hour after Lieutenant Hope left them another Cadian entered. A man this time, and alone, he wore the same fatigues and silver armour, though a wicked scar had carved up his right cheek and gave his face a lopsided look when he talked.

“If you will follow me, I am to lead you to the yard,” he said.

 

While it was Godwyn’s doing that the Cadians now had possession of the T-41b HCC, the Inquisitor had never actually seen what it was she had bargained for. Blueprints had drawn it as a large, rugged machine built for carrying heavy loads over long distances, but size and strength rarely carried their way through ink. Originally designated the T-40 Materiel Transport Vehicle, its lumbering design supported its role as a transport for static emplacements and ordnance over land. To that end the original design boasted almost a cubic kilometre of carrying space with an engine powerful enough to drive its quad-caterpillars over almost any terrain. Away from static warzones, however, the transport of static emplacements was typically more effective on a smaller scale, and so the T-40 MTV rapidly evolved into the T-41 series HCCs. Maintaining the high carrying capacity of its predecessor, the T-41 was further compartmentalized for the purposes of transporting personnel. Electronic and support systems were upgraded, and what had started as a vehicle designed for operation by two or three crew quickly became able to support just under a hundred men in confined, albeit acceptable, conditions.

Seeing a T-41b HCC for the first time, however, Godwyn could have easily mistaken it for being able to carry an entire battalion. Larger than any non-space faring vehicle she had ever seen, including even the super-heavy fighting vehicles of the Imperial Guard, the T-41 was huge – like a bastion on treads. It dwarfed the remaining train cars in the yard and towered over the people that worked in its shadow – like someone had taken a fortress wall and mounted it on treads.

“Holy sh**…” Spider mumbled, her eyes widening upon the realization that she wasn’t looking at building, and that the metal behemoth was actually designed to move under its own power.

A few paces behind her, Nerf looked upon the Cadians with a new sense of appreciation: Princeton and his guys might just know what they were doing after all.

Tall enough to accommodate at least four-or-five decks inside its plate armoured hull, the rust-coloured T-41 loomed menacingly over everything in the yard. It bore no visible weapon mounts or turrets, but to think it was defenceless would be a mistake, and as they followed the Cadian towards it through the yard they could see numerous fire-points worked into its metal flanks where transported troops could fire down upon any attacker with impunity.

“How would someone even try to take that out?” Godwyn asked their guide, hoping that a soldier would indulge a civilian on what might otherwise be a touchy subject.

“With difficulty,” the Cadian replied, directing Godwyn and her companions to follow him towards the rear of the HCC. “Lacking superior firepower, STP dictates to focus dedicated anti-armour weapons towards acknowledged weak points – in this case the mobility and command components.”

“What’s STP?” Spider asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt.

“Standardized Target Priority,” Nerf replied casually. “The unimaginative way of dealing with things.”

 

Around the aft end of the High Capacity Carrier was a large ramp typically used for the loading of provisions. A crowd of thirty or so people were standing around the ramp, and as Godwyn and her companions got closer they could hear the hubbub of numerous conversations punctuated occasionally by bursts of laughter. These people were not Cadians and wore no uniforms, though most were armed with an eclectic selection of rifles, handguns, and other armaments. These, Godwyn guessed, were the auxiliaries she and the others had joined.

They were fewer in number than she had expected.

None of the auxiliaries seemed to bother noticing the five newcomers as they approached, though after several moments the group fell silent and every head seemed to turn towards the ramp of the HCC. Several Cadians had appeared from inside the T-41, and standing in the middle of them, Godwyn recognized the Major. Not a big man, but a big presence, the entire world seemed to fall silent in order to hear him speak, and every face was turned towards his as the man’s steely gaze surveyed the crowd. Everyone seemed to stand a little taller under his eyes, and his hard features turned into a smile:

“Good to see you’re still here,” he said, and several whoops and cheers answered him. The soldiers on his flanks did not so much as stir, and the Major held up a hand for silence.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this time it is real,” he said, his voice rising strong and clear over the heads of the assembled auxiliaries. “What you have heard is true, and we are a-go. If what you have seen on this world so far doesn’t look like a war, then that is about to change. In matter of weeks, days, or even hours, you are going to come face to face with something that wants you dead and is going to do everything it can to make you dead. Know that you are going to have to live with that.” He paused, his eyes passing over them as he looked for the slightest sign that they could be found wanting. Whether or not he found any would never be known.

“Men and women better than you have died on this world, so if any of the reasons keeping you standing here today aren’t good enough to die for, then pick up your things and leave right this instant. No-one will think less of you for admitting you aren’t strong enough.”

Daring them to stay, Princeton waited for a moment in silence, though when not a soul moved he continued:

“From this moment onward, all of you are in agreement with the men and women that stand beside you. All of you will fight and die together if need be. To refuse is treason. To flee is desertion. Under my command, both are punishable by death. By staying here you have agreed to that.”

Once again he waited, watching for any and all of the people gathered before him to buckle and turn away, but, once again, not a single person was found wanting.

“Good,” he nodded to them, “good.”

Seeming to relax somewhat, Major Princeton muttered a few words to the Cadian beside him. The soldier nodded sharply and turned heel before striding back into the HCC.

“This is how it goes from here on,” he said, and with little in the way of wasted words began to explain their mission.

Following the rail-lines, they would be moving far south with the HCC and a couple of light recon units until they reached their objective – a large air base that, once secured, should be strong enough and large enough to act as a staging ground for any future southern campaigns. Encountering zero-resistance and under ideal weather conditions, the trip was estimated to take thirty-five days, though given the difficult terrain between Drumwell and their target – and the likelihood that the rail-lines would be obstructed or otherwise rendered impassable – Princeton was prepared for it to take as long as six months. Failing that, they would have to bunker down to refit and resupply by whatever means possible before starting out again.

The level of expected enemy resistance was also unclear.

A war without battle-lines, Princeton anticipated that pockets of fierce resistance would likely exist and could be countered or circumvented. The air base was almost certain to be occupied by hostiles in strong enough numbers repel conventional attacks, however, meaning that in-depth reconnaissance and commando tactics would be necessary for any chance of victory.

“Getting there with the strength to succeed is the battle we will fight every day,” Princeton told them, “and in that battle each of you will play a part.”

Watching from the crowd, Godwyn could see the reactions of the people standing around her – see the words invigorate them and strengthen them – see how Princeton instilled them with such faith and purpose that they would rather die than fail. To her it sounded ambitious – recklessly so – but there was no denying that the Cadian commander could move a crowd. Still, she had told enough people enough words to know that they were of little comfort when the bullets started flying, and that it took a strength of will greater than most people could muster to block out physical pains.

And the people around her? They were mercenaries – renowned for buckling when the payoff no longer seemed worth the trouble.

Godwyn doubted that Princeton would really count on any of them – they were just there to catch bullets for his Cadians.

 

The speech ended, and as a whole the auxiliaries started to board the HCC. Godwyn was about to follow them when she saw a Cadian cutting through the crowd towards them.

“Mrs. Godwyn!”

It was Lieutenant Hope.

“Mrs. Godwyn,” the female officer stopped her just as she was about to step forward onto the ramp, “Major Princeton would like to see you and Mr. Aquinas,” she glanced briefly at the space marine, “I will take you to him.”

“What about the rest of us?” Nerf cut in.

Hope rounded on him sharply: “I am an officer! You will address me as ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’! Is that clear, trooper!?”

Nerf scowled: “What about the rest of us, ‘sir’?”

“You will proceed with the others and be directed to your quarters.”

The Catachan looked mutinous.

“Get a move on trooper!”

With a glance from his boss, Nerf marched past them up the ramp with Spider and Mercy following lightly in his footsteps. Lieutenant Hope watched him go. For her part, Godwyn had to remind herself that Nerf had been outside of the Guard for a long time and was not likely to jump back into soldiering with both feet. He’d been like a cooped animal since they left Erebus Station, and some action would likely do him good.

“Lead on, Lieutenant,” Godwyn said once Nerf and the others had disappeared inside the HCC, and together with the librarian she followed the Cadian inside by another route.

 

 

The command deck was full of activity when Lieutenant Hope opened the door and ushered them through – Aquinas having to stoop his shoulders in order to fit. No sooner had they stepped in, however, and they were already in the way as green uniformed engineers struggled to work around and over them in the cramped confines of the deck.

“Hope, we have enough people on the CP already,” a grizzled looking man with spectacles looked up from where he leaning over a sparking command console with another Cadian.

“Major’s orders,” Hope replied, closing the door to the command deck behind her and making things seem even more tight between the press of men and machines. Godwyn tried to flatten herself as best she could against a wall, only to have an engineer tell her politely that she was exactly where he needed to run some wiring. There was another spark across the room near the spectacled man. Something smelled like burning.

“That’s right. I asked the Lieutenant to bring them here.”

Princeton’s voice came from somewhere near the front of the room, but it wasn’t until he stepped around one of the drivers’ seats and stood in front of the primary viewport that Godwyn could see him clearly.

The man with spectacles hauled himself off the console he had been working on and dusted off his hands. “With respect, Major,” he said, looking at Godwyn and Aquinas before turning his attention back to the commanding officer, “we have a lot of work to do here before we’re ready to go.”

Princeton’s hard eyes swung in the man’s direction. He nodded as if talking to an old friend. “I know that Jim, but you and your boys could use a break. Take five.”

Jim shrugged and looked away. “If you say so, sir.”

Jim and the engineers filed out of the room with heavy footsteps. Suddenly Godwyn felt like she could breathe again without getting in someone’s way.

Princeton inclined his head in their general direction. “You too, Claire,” he said, looking past them at the Lieutenant. With a sharp salute she stepped out the door and closed it behind her.

The command deck, which had been so animated just moments before, suddenly became very quiet, making the press of machinery and metal that much more noticeable. The librarian was hunched with his head against the ceiling. Godwyn did her best to give him some space.

“Mrs. Godwyn, I give credit where credit is due,” Princeton started, placing his hands on his hips and facing her from across the low-ceilinged room. “You did me a service, and the manner in which that service was done deserves to be noticed.” He bowed his head in her direction; “I recognize you for that.”

She responded with a measured smile. “You are too kind, sir.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” he said flatly, looking at her exactly as if he were inspecting a soldier upon the parade ground. “You succeeded where my people failed, and you got the job done without making a mess. You might not be a soldier but you are capable, and I’ve noticed that people don’t lose a hand from shaking it too much.”

The Inquisitor glanced briefly at her bionic fore-arm and then back at the Major. He wasn’t making nice – that wasn’t in his nature – he was just stating facts.

“You are correct, sir,” she said.

He gave her a hard, appraising look and stayed silent behind pursed lips for a couple of moments. He folded his hands in front of him, and seemed to bounce slightly on the balls of his feet – as if coming to a decision.

“Everyone plays a part on this mission,” the Major stepped around the command deck until he could set his left hand on the headrest of a driver’s seat, “if you are willing, I want you to be on my headquarters staff.”

Godwyn took her time in answering. “Will your men think it appropriate?” she asked carefully.

The Major did not so much as blink.

“They know who is in command of his mission.”

“Very well, sir, I am willing.”

Princeton didn’t look relieved, happy, or even welcoming; “Good,” was all he said, and turned his attention to Aquinas who had been quietly watching the exchange:

“My men told me that Mrs. Godwyn had some peculiar people in her company, you especially. Forgive me, but are you by chance a space marine?”

Godwyn shifted her gaze discretely in the librarian’s direction, but Aquinas seemed entirely unperturbed by the question.

“I am.”

The Major swallowed but didn’t lose his poise in front of the astartes psyker. “Then we are honoured to have you among us, my lord, though with your leave I will ask that the mission be left under my command.”

The librarian nodded once, slowly; “That would be a wise decision,” he said coolly.

The Cadian thanked him, but made it clear that he still had something on his mind. “Forgive my intrusion, lord, but I assume you are here looking for the other space marine?”

Across the room, Godwyn blinked as if she hadn’t heard him right, but quickly buried her surprise in case Princeton should notice. Other space marine?

Aquinas, however, remained entirely inexpressive as if he had somehow been expecting to hear that exact question all along.

“That is correct,” he replied. “Am I to understand that you know of my brother?”

The Major coughed to clear his throat, the only expression of discomfort Godwyn had yet seen from a Cadian, and shook his head.

“No,” he sounded slightly disappointed in saying so; “I only knew him by sight and name, and that he went south from Drumwell about a month ago. I haven’t heard anything of him since.”

The librarian’s face remained blank. “And what name did you know him by?”

“Leto.”

Leto.

Godwyn remembered the name. It wasn’t one of those things she’d easily forget. The look of Spider’s agonized face still floated fresh in her memory, as did the three words that slipped through her tortured lips:

Oberon

Leto

Zero

There was no way Aquinas would have forgotten them either.

She looked over in his direction, but the librarian was still facing the Cadian officer:

“I see,” he said. “Thank you.”

 

*

 

 

“What was the meaning of that?”

They were down a deck from where they’d left Princeton on the CP when Godwyn rounded on him in a narrow side-hall. She was alone with the space marine for the time being with not another person nearby, but in the cramped interior of the T-41 Godwyn had no idea how long the luxury of privacy would last.

Hunched between the low ceiling and narrow walls, the space marine did not look the slightest bit alarmed.

“Ask your questions, Inquisitor. I have nothing to hide.”

“Then who is Leto?”

Aquinas shook his head. “I do not know.”

She threw an irritated glare in his direction. They were stopped in a section of corridor against the hull and all around them was quiet and still.

“Well you fooled him as well as me!”

The librarian nodded his concession. “Unfortunate that it caught you unaware, but as you know knowledge is power and we cannot afford to appear powerless. Retaining an illusion of superiority may be our only saving grace as of this moment.”

Though it stung to do so, Godwyn agreed that he was right. “But there is no way this is coincidence,” she insisted. “I won’t believe that two prophesied names are not somehow linked. Oberon – this planet – and now Leto. Is this other space marine after the same thing we are?”

“It is possible, yes.”

“Possible or likely?”

“Both.”

Godwyn swore, slapping her metal hand against the hull with a bang. “And he has a month’s head start!”

The space marine nodded grimly. “Though he does not know that he is followed,” he added, “that can be worked to our advantage.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We do what we can to uncover more about Leto,” Aquinas began.

“Can Spider help us?” Godwyn asked.

“Quite likely,” he agreed, “though our host knows more than he lets on as well.”

“I can work on him, but what about the third name? What about Zero?”

The space marine didn’t have an answer for her. “We shall see soon enough.”

It would have to do. Hearing footsteps approaching from somewhere down the hall, Godwyn knew that they couldn’t talk anymore and kept her head down as if inspecting her bionic while walking to towards the noise. She rounded the corner, purposely walking head-first into the other person:

“Excuse me, I - !”

But it wasn’t a Cadian she was looking at. Under a mop of greasy black hair, a ghoulish grin filled with stained yellow teeth was growing across the man’s scarred and pitted face.

“Hello Inquisitor,” he said with a voice as oily as his skin, “fancies that we find each other here. How’s the leg?”

[Aqui]

"Other Space Marine"

 

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUN! :lol:

[Papewaio]

My bet is on Aquinas. Meeting something that not even he can kill would be awesome, even if it means he is no longer part of the story.

 

As to who won't die, I really hope Spider lives. I think she has been one of the most interesting characters so far, and would really like to see how she develops. Besides, in Inquisition II the protege died - although it would create a bit of a parallel between Godwyn and Aquinas.

[Olis]

Having read through The Inquisition III, but not the first two instalments, I personally would prefer Spider to live also. She has a lot of promise as a character with her inherent and percieved flaws as well as her unresolved crush on Nerf. On the other hand I care little for Aquinas, for a variety of reasons, and have no issue with him dying, besides him being a stabilising factor for Spider's psychic talents. I'm under the impression the character that'll have the largest impact dying and yet still not have you roundly booed for offing them, is Mercy. She is close to Nerf and Godwyn and so would deeply affect them, in differing ways, if she should die. Yet she is largely independant of the group for most of the story and so hasn't provided similar emotive moments that Spider or Nerf has.

 

I've noticed Nerf has a character similar (but also very unlike) to Harlon Nayl what with his service under more than one Inquisitor and his hard-bitten attitude. I've grown to like him purely because of the way he has, for want of a better term, blossomed from an especially well-trained grunt to a veteran with issues in his past and a strong independant streak. Other characters depend or look to him for support or guidance and he is not averse to teaching via the school of hard knocks. The fact that he is an accomplished killer is a given and is reiterated more than once, which makes moments when he is sociable all the more enticing.

 

On the whole a good read so far and I shall certainly be keeping an eye open for the rest of the story and it's successor(s). As and when I find the time I'll also look up the first two supplements.

[Lady_Canoness]

A very well-concieved response, Olisredan, and I'm glad to have your input. The most satisfying part of writing the Inquisition is the characters, so I'm glad they are making their marks throughout the story B)

 

From what I am gathering, Aquinas is the character that will be missed the least largely in part due to how his role in the story has changed since the Inquisition I. Also from what I gather, Spider and Nerf are characters who are favourites to survive because of their development and potential as strong characters.

 

Who will it be in the end? Well, I *will* let slip that three of our characters (four including Godwyn) are planned to make an appearance in some fashion in the Inquisition IV. :P

[Olis]

I'm happy I wasn't just gibbering away and speaking out of my behind. B)

[Brother-Sergeant Bohemond]

I am still loving your work!

 

For me, personally I would like to see them all stay alive this time after you killed them all of last time, well, bar 3 or so.

 

But, if 1 were to die, either Aquinas or Mercy would be my least worried about...mainly as I never clicked with them as much as the others. I'd like to see more of Spider in the future and I love Nerf.

[Lady_Canoness]

I am still loving your work!

 

For me, personally I would like to see them all stay alive this time after you killed them all of last time, well, bar 3 or so.

 

But, if 1 were to die, either Aquinas or Mercy would be my least worried about...mainly as I never clicked with them as much as the others. I'd like to see more of Spider in the future and I love Nerf.

 

I'm honestly tickled pink that Nerf is so popular! The more I think about him, as a character, the more life-like he seems - though that is something I aspire to do with all my characters (maybe it's worked?)

 

Next part should be out this weekend, though there is still a little ways to go before this story wraps itself up. For those who might be interested, up to this point you have read over 92,000 words of Inquisition III :)

[Olis]

92,000? Jeepers. That's definitely short story territory, indeed.

[Ah-a-nothepsis]

For those who might be interested

 

*raises hand* I am, dearie!

 

Memememe.

[Brother-Sergeant Bohemond]

seems like all your work gets longer as you get more famous :(

 

I am looking forward to your next update, I also would love to see Godwyn come out of Black Library one day in book form...

 

I think I would buy it even if it was a repeat of these purely as I know its awesome. Then I'd proceed to continue buying your work ;)

[Lady_Canoness]

I try, Brother Sergeant, but unless anyone knows of any back doors into the Black Library I'm going to have to keep trying to get in the old fashioned way through open submission windows.

[Aqui]

I try, Brother Sergeant, but unless anyone knows of any back doors into the Black Library I'm going to have to keep trying to get in the old fashioned way through open submission windows.

 

It's not much comfort, but J.k. Rowling had to submit her book 13 times before it took off, so who knows? ;)

[Lady_Canoness]

Part 18 arrives. This is starting to feel like a habit :)

 

__________________________

 

*Part 18*

 

Tweed was a snake of a man hardly worth the space he occupied, but Godwyn did owe him her life – something she found herself hating him for. He was a debased and sickening individual, though admittedly he did have some skill in his chosen trade and it was this that had caused the Cadians to bring him along. Pain suppressants, antiseptics, immunio boosters, and dozens of other drugs all essential to proper battlefield medicine were incredibly hard to come by in protracted and ill-supported wars. Any man who could fabricate functional alternatives to industrial drugs was therefore invaluable, and the Cadian’s chief medical officer had quickly enlisted Tweed as an apothecary – a position he took willingly as soon as it became clear that in exchange he would be allowed to harvest more samples to satisfy his ‘scientific’ curiosity. After their first chance encounter, however, Tweed kept his distance from the Inquisitor, and the first week of their journey south soon ended without Godwyn having to address another word towards the herbalist who’d saved her life, though, be that as it may, Godwyn’s appointment to Princeton’s headquarters staff did not leave her wanting for things to do.

Unofficially assuming the position of logistics officer for the Cadian and auxiliary compliments on the mission, the Inquisitor spent the majority of the first week working out a storeroom behind the command deck and familiarizing herself with every variable resource aboard the HCC. Fuel, ammunition, food, personnel, water – everything that was needed to survive was hers to monitor and report, making recommendations to the Major when something seemed particularly vital or in danger of being mismanaged. It was a taxing responsibility that interfered with her ability to focus on her own goals, though for the most part Princeton and his Cadians were easy to work with, and the strengthening rapport building between them felt like a worthy investment of her time.

The auxiliaries, on the other hand, were much harder to get along with. Lacking discipline and without a common leader other than the Cadians, most auxiliaries required constant supervision in order to be effective at their duties, and the close proximity to their peers made sure that personalities would clash.

When she got the chance, Godwyn had suggested that either Nerf or Aquinas would be a suitable rallying figure to command the respect and obedience of the auxiliary corps. Nerf, however, wasn’t even remotely interested in being a leader, and Aquinas typically divided his time between tutoring Spider in the cramped confines of their quarters, or on the command deck at the request of Major Princeton.

 

“Have you found out anything else about Leto?” Godwyn asked one afternoon when Aquinas ducked into her makeshift office inside the storeroom and cleared a spot upon the floor where he could sit.

The Inquisitor herself sat upon an overturned bucket and used a sheet of metal spread across two boxes as a table. It wasn’t much, and the ever-present rumbling vibration of the treads coming up through the decks meant that she couldn’t sit for long without her buttocks turning numb, but, given the scarcity of expendable resources on the mission, Godwyn was lucky her bucket hadn’t yet been repurposed by the kitchen staff.

“Unfortunately no,” Aquinas replied, “not from the Major. His interest in my company does not exceed his curiosity regarding astartes combat protocols. I think it likely that you will have more success than I in this matter.”

Godwyn had her doubts. “I haven’t been able to get him alone, and if I blow my cover we could be a lot trouble.”

Aquinas agreed, but that in itself wouldn’t change anything.

“What about his motivations?” the Inquisitor changed tactics. “Why would a space marine be out here alone?”

The librarian looked at her with a considerate frown. “A battle brother’s training does not account for individual action, nor does it permit for unsanctioned deployment,” he stated. “Thusly one can safely assume that an independent space marine is a deviant from standard protocol. If that is the case he will be a dangerous opponent indeed…”

“Wait a minute,” Godwyn held up a hand asking him to retrace the steps of his reasoning, “what if he is like you?”

Aquinas looked at her blankly. “What do you mean?”

“What if he’s following someone else who would otherwise be unremarkable?”

He nodded. “Possible. Either way, like me, he will be dangerous.”

The Inquisitor took that as a given: when was a space marine not dangerous?

“Have you told any of the others about what we have discovered?”

Godwyn met his eyes. She shook her head. “No.”

“Good. They should not know about this threat until we are prepared to deal with it.”

 

In principle, Godwyn believed that her team should know what she knew, but in practice she was hesitant to let on that a second space marine was on the planet and likely looking for the same thing they were. Mercy wouldn’t care – she would think of a space marine as a challenge, one that’s she’d relish – but she was the only one. Nerf would probably take it as an excuse to further distrust Aquinas, and, depending on what happened with Cadians, it could affect his judgement in a time when she really needed him sharp. Spider might also take it badly. The girl was reclusive around Godwyn, so she couldn’t know for sure, but the older woman had seen enough of her instabilities to feel certain that the teenager wouldn’t react well to knowing that there was something else like her mentor working against them.

Godwyn didn’t like it, but that was the way it would have to be if she hoped to hold her team together.

 

* *

 

Spider was behind Nerf when he threw open the ceiling hatch-cover leading to the outer deck and she breathed in deeply through her nose the moment she felt the cool gust of air hit her face.

She closed her eyes and smiled. This had to best time of her life.

When she opened them again, Nerf had his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and was looking back at her over his shoulder. He was softly laughing at her. It must have looked pretty weird.

“You coming?” he asked through a smile.

She nodded, feeling completely at peace. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

 

The world on top of the transport was beautiful. Really beautiful. She’d never used that word to describe anything before. Most of her life had been spent between cold and inanimate walls of metal where the air seemed to sit and stagnate until she breathed it and the only smell was from the sanitizer fluids from the oxygen recycling plant.

But this, this was perfect.

She followed Nerf up the ladder and pulled herself from the hatch with a wide grin on her face. The sun was shining, the air was moist and cool and blowing through her hair. It smelled fresh and real – like she hadn’t lived a day of her life before today.

One of the mercs was already up top when they got there, and was smiling in their direction with bright, white teeth under the brim of his helmet.

“Good day to be alive, suh!” he said, and nodded.

His name was Bonis and he was an aux just like them. His skin was almost as black as his body armour and he carried a heavy-looking machine gun lightly in both hands. The first time Spider had seen him was in the showers, and unlike most of the men he didn’t make a habit of staring. He was nice, she thought, legitimately nice.

Nerf and Bonis talked for a bit, both of them leaning against the guard rail. Spider stood with them too, her back to the horizon, though she didn’t listen in as her eyes were always drawn to the world around her with amazement, and it seemed like every day she was up here it changed in some wonderful way.

They’d left the city at least a week ago but when she looked up towards the front of the HCC she could see that they were still following the rail tracks. They’d followed them through plains, forests and hills with no sign of any enemy, and, though she heard the other aux talking about being on edge, she didn’t mind it one bit.

“Hey kid, you hear that?”

Spider snapped out of her reverie and looked around. Both Nerf and Bonis were looking into the air, ears pricked, with a strange calm on their faces.

“Hear what?” she asked, wondering if she’d missed it.

“Just listen.”

They were passing along a dusty hillside, the engine grumbling under the vibrating steel as rocks were crushed and earth was displaced under the transport’s colossal treads. Those were sounds that she always heard up here.

She was about to ask again what it was she should be listening for when she heard it, and at first only so slightly that she had to strain her ears to hear it again: a deep rumble building into a roar of power as it rolled over the landscape like the beating of a giant drum. She had only ever heard its likeness once beforem when it was night on the agri-world where Orion had taken her to meet with Nerf and the Inquisitor. She had had to ask him what it was.

“Thunder…” she said in quiet awe.

Nerf patted her shoulder, but Bonis laughed:

“Thunder of one-thirtytwos!” he said with a wide smile. “Surest thunder you’ll ever hear!”

Spider didn’t really get what he meant, but Nerf was pointing her towards the horizon.

“See that?” he said. “Follow my finger right to the end there.”

She squinted. Born in the underhive and used to living the dark, Spider had never been used to looking long distances, but even so she could see the sky lighting up like fire as the thunder rolled towards them.

“What is it?”

Nerf tapped her arm with something metal. It was the scope from his rifle.

“Here,” he said, and passed it to her.

She took it, and peering through sights at the horizon saw what look like great flashes of light surging upwards from the ground – as if the earth itself were splitting open.

“Earthshakers,” Bonis said again with a grin, grinding a wad of black chew between his teeth, “that sure is a beautiful sight. Hate to be on the receiving end of that.”

Spider gaped at it a while longer through the scope, and, when she was done, handed it back to Nerf. The look on his face was asking a question – a question she didn’t know the answer to when she looked back at him blankly.

“Artillery,” he said, realizing that the teenager had no idea what it was she had been looking at, “really big guns that shoot shells further than the eye can see, but, don’t worry, they aren’t pointed at us. We’d know if they were.”

Bonis started to chuckle, and it sounded as if he were singing; “Pay no mind to the distant thunder, just set your eyes to the sky and wonder…”

Spider looked back to the horizon where she could still see the hellish glare with her bare eyes. Suddenly the day seemed less fresh, less beautiful. A warm knot of fear and excitement started to turn in her gut.

“Bonis is an old artillery guy,” Nerf was saying. “How many guns are over there, B?”

The dark skinned man screwed up his face under his helmet; “hmm… at least six or seven pounding the ground, I think.”

Nerf shook his head.

The other aux laughed. “Kinda makes our little expedition seem like petty fry, eh? Haha!”

Nerf was still shaking his head. “Not really. With guns that big you’ve got to be damn sure of where you’re pointing them.”

Bonis nodded his approval. “Point well made, Catachan. You of all people know how important it is to see what you’re shooting.”

They watched the display for a few more minutes in relative silence before Nerf backed away from the guardrail. “C’mon kid,” he said, beckoning Spider back to the hatch, “let’s go back inside.”

Normally she would have asked him to stay but the steady thunder of the artillery barrage was making her insides squirm, so she didn’t say anything as she followed him back inside the noisy, dark, and cramped interior of the HCC. So much for it being a beautiful day.

 

*

 

Whoever said that waiting was the hardest part of war was right. The actual fighting part was actually pretty easy – you just got into it and did your best to not die before getting out. There was no real time for thinking, no time for doubt, simply deciding where you wanted your next bullet to go and doing your best to put it there. And if you died, you died – you got hit, you got hit – simple as that.

There was nothing really hard about it. You were just too busy staying alive to find it hard.

Things only get hard when you let them get hard, that’s what Nerf believed, and, if experience had taught him anything, it was sitting on your hands thinking about things that made them seem much harder. The best thing to do in that situation was therefore to keep busy. Not preparing, per se, as that still involved a lot of thinking about how hard things were gonna get. Instead, Nerf spent his time doing what he did anyway, striping down his rifles and putting them back together, and not thinking about the artillery fire he’d seen on the horizon.

 

The armoury was buzzing with noisy conversations when he got there, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Doubling as the mess during mealtimes, the armoury was the largest single compartment on the HCC and was understandably popular amongst men who loved shooting and eating – which most of the aux corps were – turning it into a sort of common ground were mercs came to laugh and talk when they weren’t busy. Today was a pretty normal day in that respect.

The Cadian quartermaster was there, a Corporal by the name of Ricketts. He was in charge of the HCCs cache and responsible for doling out weapons and ammo as well as making sure everything was in working order. For a Cadian he wasn’t half-bad, and Nerf got along pretty well with him. Ricketts always had some interesting weapons to show off and he usually gave Nerf first pick at looking through them, something the Catachan respected him for.

A few aux were kicking around as well. Some of them Nerf didn’t know by name, but there were couple that he couldn’t help but know about for obvious reasons.

The first was Andre, an ogryn, who spent all his time near the armoury because he couldn’t fit through any of the normal sized doors. Bigger than a space marine, and probably stronger and tougher too, the ogryn had been brought along because of his brute force and usefulness as a shock-trooper. He could carry lots of gear and ammo, snap a tree-trunk with his bare hands, and wield an autocannon like a regular-sized man would carry a rifle. Nerf had also heard that he made a mean grox stew, but he wasn’t sure if he believed that one yet. Despite his size and strength, however, Andre had the mind of a smaller man and was friendlier, gentler, and softer spoken than any of the others on the transport. He got along well with people and never threw his weight around, and, if it weren’t for the well-used eviscerator chainsword he carried over his back, most people could probably be tricked into thinking he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Hanging around Andre all the time, however, was the giant’s exact opposite in the shape of a loud, obnoxious little man called Murty Lightfort – a ratling. Nerf didn’t care enough about Murty to waste time dwelling on him.

 

Entering the armoury with his guns over his shoulders, Nerf took his usual spot at the table farthest from the quartermaster’s counter. Andre was at the table closest to the quartermaster with a few others and waved when the Catachan came in. The ratling was there also, but he was too busy talking to pay any attention to anyone else.

Nerf sat down and set his rifles out before him on the table, at which point Spider joined him, sitting opposite the Catachan across the table with both feet up on the bench.

The teenager spent most of her time with him when the space marine wasn’t telling her to do things, and all in all Nerf didn’t mind. She was good company and always seemed to have this light in her eyes that made him chuckle. The kid was changing, relaxing a little more; it was good to see. She also seemed to like the armoury as much as he did, and would happily sit for hours at a time shootin’ the breeze as he walked her through the finer points of rifle drills.

“When was the last time you actually fired the Mk. IV?” the girl asked, referring to the four-foot long anti-materiel sniper rifle that Nerf lugged around along with his smaller bullpup auto-carbine.

“It’s been a while,” the ex-commando admitted. Weighing close to fifty pounds and packing enough punch to drop an ork boss as far as two clicks away, the Mk. IV Predator rifle was Nerf’s baby. He’d been with it for most of his adult life and brought it with him from Catachan when he left, and while the opportunities to fire it in battle were rare he knew that it was reliable, dependable, and utterly devastating.

“Why?”

It was the kind of question Spider asked a lot, and every time she did it reminded him of how little she’d done in her life until now. It wasn’t her fault, he knew that, and it still freaked him out that she was a real flesh-and-blood witch, but it made him happy to know that her life was starting to change for the better now. He hoped Godwyn would keep her on when this was all over, and he hoped she was still alive to see it.

“Well,” he said slowly as he carefully opened the rifle’s housing and slid the barrel free, “there is a lot more to shooting a gun like this than pointing and pulling.”

“Like what?”

“Like a lot.”

“Can you show me?”

There was a hopeful look in her face that looked so girlishly innocent that Nerf couldn’t keep a straight face while looking at her. She was cute in her own kind of way with the ink that covered her body making her seem more like a kid than she actually was: a kid in a young woman’s skin.

“Sure,” he said, “I can give you a crash course in Catachan sniper school.”

The girl was thrilled, and across the room there was a chorus of laughter as Murty made some lude joke accompanied by a series of pelvic thrusts as he stood on top of a table. His big face turned upwards in happiness, Andre the ogryn was the last one left laughing until he swept Murty off the table and onto the floor, at which point everyone joined in again.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the evening of the tenth day just before the changing of the watch that Godwyn got her first chance to speak with Major Princeton alone.

“Major?” she stepped softly onto the command deck and gently shut the door behind her. The Cadian commanding officer was bent over a chart table that was wedged into the centre of the room. Various consoles and readouts ticked and hummed around him, and over his shoulders the brilliantly orange sunset was painting the sky through the viewport glass.

“What is it, Mrs. Godwyn?” he said without looking up.

“The day end reports, sir, would you like to hear them?”

He glanced up in her direction. Even after ten days his eyes were just as hard as they were the day they left Drumwell. “That depends. Is everything as it should be?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then that is all I need to know.”

He could have dismissed her at that moment like he usually did, but something seemed to be holding him back this time, so Godwyn waited rather than turning to leave on her own. Undoubtedly he had a lot on his mind: fifty Cadians, thirty-six auxiliaries, scouting reports, contingency plans, alternate routing – all of it had to fit together like pieces of a puzzle inside his brain. It wasn’t easy – she could tell that from experience – but with the right assets it wasn’t always a struggle.

“We’re making good time, Mrs. Godwyn,” he said somewhat out of the blue, folding up his map and squaring it away in an overhead storage compartment, “by morning we should be drawing up on the land-bridge at Descanso Crossing, after which, if our luck holds up, we can follow the river three days out to the coast.” He had a smile on his face. “You like beaches, Mrs. Godwyn?”

She smiled back coyly; “Depends on what we’ll be doing there, sir.”

“Hopefully not fighting,” he replied, “though I hear they are quite beautiful. White sand stretching for miles. Virgin and unspoiled.”

“Until we get there,” Godwyn added, “then I suppose we’ll just run over it all like we do with everything else.”

“This is a military operation, not a pleasure cruise,” Princeton reminded her sternly. “I imagine this is still new to you, but in this type of operation we have to maintain discipline. Don’t forget that lives are at stake.”

“I won’t forget, sir,” Godwyn replied, mindful that the Cadian expected her to act, talk, and think like a civilian caught out of their element, “but if you don’t mind, I have a question.”

He nodded his assent. “Ask.”

She chose her words carefully: “Sir, you mentioned earlier that a space marine came this way. Leto. Are we prepared to deal with someone – something – like that?”

“There is an entire world out there, Mrs. Godwyn,” he answered with a hard frown, turning and looking out the viewport into the orange glow of the sun setting over the horizon “I don’t think one man, even a space marine, will make much of a difference to what happens out here.”

Behind his back, Godwyn disagreed. One man – or one woman, for that matter – could make all the difference to an entire planet. She had, and so had her team, but he didn’t need to know that, and when Princeton looked back in her direction he saw only what he expected to see: a civilian, not a soldier – not a warrior.

“Mess is in five minutes,” he said; “Will you be there?”

“Yes sir, I will,” she nodded, keeping her daily reports flat in her hands.

“Good. Dismissed,” and he turned his back on her.

 

 

Under Cadian command it was tradition for the officers to eat after the men, and the commanding officer to eat last of all. It was supposed to symbolize the reluctance of officers to set aside their duty in battle, as well as their respect for the troops they led by only eating if there was food left over. It was noble, Godwyn thought, but like most military traditions also self-endearing and pointless.

Aboard the HCC, Princeton would always be the last to arrive in the mess, and when he did the other officers would be seated; leaving him as the only person standing to say a brief Imperial prayer:

“Faithful of the Emperor, soldiers in His name, know the light and protection of the Immortal All-Father. In His name we are blessed.”

The blessing complete, he would then be seated with his fellow officers and the meal could begin – the cooks who had been waiting patiently for the signal bringing in whatever food they had at hand before retreating to clean up the transport’s tiny kitchen. The food was typically better than battlefield rations – which said a lot since ration packs were the primary ingredient – and was plentiful enough to feed the eight or nine people who would usually sit around the table at any given meal. Princeton, Lieutenant Hope, the Engineering Officer Jim Edwards, two corporals from the headquarters staff and Godwyn would always be in attendance, as well as two or three sergeants and sometimes Brother Aquinas at the Major’s invitation.

On the evening of the tenth day, however, there were only seven at the table when the Major finished the blessing: two sergeants having excused themselves to oversee operations on the HCC, while Aquinas was spending more time in meditation.

The only non-Cadian at the table, Godwyn was accustomed to speaking the least as mealtime discussions usually revolved around military theory, dissections of important battles and tactical manoeuvres, and occasional anecdotes of an officer’s more humorous moments in the field. It therefore came as something of a surprise when Princeton singled Godwyn out from where he sat at the head of the table:

“Mrs. Godwyn,” he said, setting aside his cup of water and leaning his elbows over his cleaned plate, “in what way does trade reflect war?”

Pausing in their meals, the other Cadians looked down the table to where the lone civilian sat at the end of the bench. By now all of them knew her by name and most respected her for what she had done for them, but she still wasn’t one of them, and that would always set her apart in their eyes.

Taking a moment to finish the ground meat she was chewing on, Godwyn set down her implements and wiped her mouth with a serviette before taking a drink of water and looking back up the table. She ignored all the eyes that were turned on her and focused solely on the man sitting at the end waiting patiently for her response.

“I would say that trade reflects war in many ways, sir, not just one,” the Inquisitor replied.

A few of the Cadians exchanged anticipatory glances, though their ultimate approval rested on the Major’s reaction: his face set like stone, Princeton tilted his head in Godwyn’s direction; “Please continue.”

Turning sideways on the bench, Godwyn faced the Major directly and rested her bionic on the table. She had everyone’s attention, and, other than the rumbling of the T-41’s treads under the deck, the mess was silent.

“Every transaction is a battlefield,” she said, “and like a battlefield you have to prepare in order to be successful.” She glanced at the others around the table; they were listening. “The person opposite you is your enemy. They have what you want, or they want what you have, and both sides have a price they are willing to pay to get what they want. If you get what you want at a lower cost then you have won, but if you fail and the cost is too great then you have lost. Like war you can take what you have to battle and hope you win, but a clever commander will know that he can get what he wants easier by changing what his opponent perceives as victory. If your enemy is much greater, appease him. If your enemy is only marginally greater, intimidate him. If your enemy is marginally lesser, crush him quickly. If your enemy is much lesser, coddle him, and maybe you can turn him into an ally instead. Like battle, the trader knows that changing the game is the best way to beat the player.”

Godwyn finished talking, and, when it became clear that she wasn’t about to say anymore, the Cadians turned one at a time back towards the head of the table where their commander had folded his arms and pressed two fingers pensively against his sealed lips.

“Impressive,” he said, leaning forward onto the table. “Is that kind of thinking what got you the T-41?”

“In a way, yes,” the Inquisitor replied. “At first I intimidated him, and when the balance of power shifted in my favour I crushed him quickly.”

The Engineering Officer, Jim Edwards, laughed and shook his head, slapping the table twice with an open palm. “Really, Cassandra? You’re gonna try and pull the whole ‘stylus mightier than the sword’ thing on us? C’mon and give me a break!”

Across the table, and sitting to Princeton’s right, Lieutenant Hope seemed to oppose the senior engineer. “Why not?” she said in Godwyn’s defence, holding a smouldering lho-stick in one hand and her glass of water in the other; “It’s not like there is only one solution to fighting a war.” She tapped the side of her skull with the two fingers that weren’t holding her smoke; “thinking has a lot to do with it.”

“An Inquisitor can sign a death warrant that is then law to whoever carries the sword,” Godwyn cut in.

“Except it is the sword that is counted on to be mighty, not the stylus, thank-you-very-much,” the cantankerous engineer replied very matter-of-factly.

One of the corporals was starting to chuckle and shake his head in amusement. Princeton was leaning back in his chair, eyes flickering between his officers as if studying them as a mentor would his pupils. Hope took a drag from her lho-stick and made a look as if to say that Edwards was wrong. The Engineering Officer still wasn’t buying it.

“Or how about this,” Godwyn suggested, “the trader that gives the Cadians what they wanted but otherwise couldn’t get?”

Hope, the sergeant, and both corporals agreed – cheering and telling Edwards that he was wrong – but the Inquisitor’s eyes were still resting on Princeton: he hadn’t joined in, and was looking right back at her. He had yet to be convinced, but of what Godwyn did not know.

The sound of the mess door opening and someone running inside towards them halted their little discussion before she could find out, however, and Godwyn and the others turned around to see a Cadian in green fatigues march over to the Major and salute sharply. He said something that they didn’t catch, but when Princeton nodded the Cadian quickly turned on his heel and left the way he had come.

“Lieutenant, Mrs. Godwyn – with me,” he said, rising out of his chair and heading towards the door before anyone had the opportunity to ask what was going on. Not looking at each other, Hope and the Inquisitor quickly got up from the bench and followed him from the room. None of them said a word until they were on the command deck.

 

“Report!” the Major demanded the instant he set foot on the command deck. The two Cadians on watch jumped to attention and saluted, making way for their commanding officer as he entered the room.

“Sir, our recon teams have reported coming under light artillery fire at Descanso Crossing,” the nearest soldier reported, handing the Major a dataslate that Princeton swiftly scrolled through. “As per standing order, both teams are falling back rather than engaging the enemy.”

Moving to the fore of the command deck the Cadian commander read through whatever was on the slate and promptly handed it back to the soldier. The view port behind him was black, the sun having had sunk behind the horizon long ago, but he appeared to be looking through it anyway at something only he could see.

Waiting for instructions, Godwyn and Lieutenant Hope hung near the back of the room.

“What’s the ETA on our recon teams?” the Major asked.

“Twenty minutes, sir.”

“And our distance from the Crossing?”

“About eighteen clicks out, sir.”

“Understood. Patch me through to our team.”

“Right away, sir!”

The Cadian hopped to it and dashed to the main comms transmitter, turning a few dials and entering a numeric code into a key panel before swinging back to the Major: “All green, sir.”

Beside her, Godwyn could smell the stale stench of lho smoke on Hope’s breath as the Lieutenant adjusted her beret. Her eyes were forward and her face was hard – the look of a warrior. The Inquisitor stifled a groan under her breath: the last thing she wanted was a night-fight in the middle of nowhere.

“Come in Spectre, this is Crown. Over,” Princeton intoned from the front of the room.

Moments later a crackling voice answered him over the background noise of a roaring engine:

“Spectre 1 reporting. Read you clear. Over.”

“Give me a sit-rep, Spectre. Just the facts.”

The comm. was quiet for a time, but when the voice picked back up Godwyn could still hear the engine and what sounded like a bumpy ride:

“DC is flattened, but the bridge is still up. I repeat the bridge is passable. We came under forty mike suppression fire as soon as we broke cover. All structures at DC are gone. No cover for a crossing. I repeat, crossing is not safe.”

“Roger that, Spectre. Come on home.”

At the Major’s signal, the soldier manning the comm. cut the feed.

“Tactical appraisal,” Princeton said at once, and Lieutenant Hope stepped smartly forward.

“Sounds like they’ve got spotters covering the crossing, and could have a relief force nearby with the light artillery,” she suggested, leaving it opened ended for the Major’s approval.

“What’s the range of a ‘forty-mike’?” Godwyn asked casually once the Lieutenant was done.

“About seven clicks,” she replied, “why?”

The Inquisitor shrugged. “I’m just curious as to their reach, or how close a relief force might be if we moved in on them,” she said, trying to sound as if all of this was new to her.

“Reach is not a deciding factor,” Princeton cut the women off, turning to face them as he did so. “We get within five clicks of the Crossing and deploy our own sniper and spotter teams under the cover of darkness. At dawn they locate and eliminate any potential enemy spotters while feeding coordinates to our own heavy weapon teams to eliminate any counter attack. Clear?”

“Yes sir!” Hope snapped back.

Godwyn merely nodded.

“Mrs. Godwyn,” the Cadian Major turned his attention to the Inquisitor, “I believe we have two eligible marksmen amongst the auxiliaries? Your Catachan and the ratling?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Good, get them up and ready. Lieutenant – ” he turned his steely gaze on Hope “ – the heavy weapons are yours.”

 

Nerf was sitting cross-legged on his bunk threading strips of dark canvas through a camo cloak when Godwyn entered the tiny living compartment where her team of five people lived on six bunks in a space no larger than ten-by-ten. Mercy was there also, as was Spider; both of them appeared to be resting, though the assassin’s violet eyes were open and she watched the Inquisitor with a playful look across her face from where she lay on her stomach atop a high bunk.

The Catachan looked up as Godwyn shut the sliding metal door behind her. The cloak he was working on looked more like a pile of dark rags than anything else.

“Something up, Cas?” he asked her, his rough fingers continuing their work without the supervision of his eyes, “You’re not usually back so soon.”

Mercy clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in expectation and was slowly kicking her legs back and forth in mid-air so that the tips of her toes brushed the ceiling.

“The recon teams have come under fire about an hour down the road,” she explained, straightening out her coat and sitting on her own bunk that was across from Nerf’s and under Mercy’s. “The Major has asked that you and the other marksmen go out ahead and take a look around.”

Nerf sat up and planted both his feet on the deck. He wasn’t wearing any boots, but the movement woke Spider up – her eyes popping open from where she lay fully clothed on the middle cot – though she said nothing and merely watched.

“What kind of fire?” the former commando asked, setting aside the cloak he’d been working on.

“Light artillery,” Godwyn told him, “probably mortars.”

Nerf grunted. “So I’ll need to dig out a spotter?”

“More or less,” she said. “You’ll need to be ready to move in a half-hour. The Cadians will tell us more then.”

He shrugged and started pulling on his boots. “I’ll be taking the kid with me, though.”

Spider almost leapt to her feet; “I can do it,” she said to Godwyn, looking between the two of them like she was trying to hold back a storm.

“What!?” the older woman nearly shouted at the Catachan. “Why!?”

The Catachan stood up slowly – not at all in a confrontational way – and tossed part of the rag-pile to Spider, who caught it without so much as blinking. Turns out there had been two cloaks that Nerf was working on.

“The girl’s a quick learner,” he said calmly, “and I’ve been teaching her a few things about being a commando over the past couple days. I think she’s ready for something like this.”

Normally Godwyn was never protective of anyone and wouldn’t have considered arguing with the former commando about what he could or could not do when completing an assignment, but, with vivid memories of the teenager’s numerous instabilities still fresh in her mind, the Inquisitor found herself quickly on her feet and face-to-face with her operative.

“Do you know how big of a risk you’re taking?” she demanded. “This is not her specialty. Don’t trick yourself into thinking that she is what you want her to be!”

“I know what I know, boss,” the Catachan replied simply, “and I wouldn’t be taking her if I didn’t think she was ready. Trust me on this one.”

Godwyn shook her head. “I know why you’re doing this even if you don’t,” she told him, “but don’t let your attitude towards Aquinas have consequences for her!”

The Catachan took his time in replying. Looking at Spider, he sat back down and sighed, though the girl held his eyes with a desperate eagerness.

“You’re in charge, Cas,” he said at last, “it is your command I follow, and if you disagree I will stand down, but I do request your permission to take the kid with me. She’s good to go, and she’s ready. She can do this.”

Spider, still standing by her bunk, did her best to look calm and earnest, though she had to keep her hands pinched behind her back in order to keep them from shaking.

Chewing on the side of her lip, Godwyn sighed and ran her human hand through her hair. She wanted to say a flat-out ‘no’ but at the same time she couldn’t bring herself to finish what she’d started scant seconds earlier. Nerf was a man who had saved her life more than once, and in more than one way. She could trust him – she knew she could, she had to.

“Bring her back,” she said, yielding to the Catachan, “that is an order. Keep her safe at the cost of everything else.”

To Nerf, that much went without saying. “She’ll make it,” he nodded, “I swear my life on it.”

[Aqui]

“She’ll make it,” he nodded, “I swear my life on it.”

 

Potentially famous last words.....! ;)

[Olis]

Cool, I'm looking forward to the hunt for the spotter. Let's see what that Ratling is made of. ;)

 

I also smiled at Andre the Giant Ogryn. He reminds me of someone...

 

the Inquisitor founder herself quickly on her feet and face-to-face with her operative.

 

You might want to change that typo, there. :)

[Lady_Canoness]

Damn! Quoted self instead of editting! That's what I get for listening to 80s dance techno instead of paying attention ;)

 

Famous last words? But for who?

[Lady_Canoness]

I had so much fun writing this that I burned through it in almost one day - so I suppose we'll see if you like reading as much as I like writing :)

 

Fair warning: there is some graphic language in this part that some people might find offensive.

 

 

---------------------------

 

 

*Part 19*

 

Running under red lights, the command deck was alive and humming. Combat watch was in effect, fire-teams were being prepped to stand-by, and in the armoury heavy weapons were being unpacked and assembled: auto-cannons and heavy bolters to the roof, mortars and targeting relays to the rear exit ramp. Engineers in green fatigues dodged past silver-armoured Cadians in the halls, while auxiliary units suited up in their quarters. Above them all stood Major Princeton, the last of Justice’s command, and it was on his order alone that they waited.

Word had spread that they were going in hot up at the Crossing, but no one who talked knew for sure, and those who did know didn’t talk.

 

“Alright, hold up a sec… aaand, how’s that?”

“Ow! A little tight, but I’m good. Thanks.”

Standing together in a corner of the armoury out of the way of Quartermaster Ricketts, Andre, and the engineers unpacking heavy weapons from their overhanging compartments, Nerf was helping Spider into her camo cloak. Fastening at several parts around the arms and legs, as well as once around the shoulders and head, the cloak went on like a heavy cape of dangling camouflaged rags that swished and shook as they moved. It wasn’t light and would likely snag on things, but hiding in the underbrush it would make them almost invisible.

“Good enough,” the Catachan backed up and gave her a look up and down. “How’s the rest of it feel?”

The cloak was open at the front, giving her free access to the tactical vest she’d put on over her undershirt, her comm. link was secured around her head with the antenna poking up over her shoulder, and the green cargo pants they’d found for her fit loosely. If it wasn’t for the sticky feeling of smeared camo-paint all over her face and arms, she’d have felt positively perfect right now.

“I feel good,” she said, giving him thumbs-up even though he was no more than two feet away. She felt scared, but she felt good.

He nodded. “Where’s your knife?”

She instinctively slapped her hand to her right shoulder – the place Nerf had fastened it with his hands so tantalizingly close to where she wanted them to be.

He nodded again. “Good. You’re ready.”

“I don’t have gun!” she said.

The Catachan looked at her as if she’d just said something crazy. “You don’t need a gun. It’s safer without one.”

“What? How!?”

He held up a hand. “Just trust me. Here,” he handed her a bulky pair of magnoculars, “this is what you’ll need.”

Spider looked at them curiously as Nerf turned around to pick up his rifle that was leaning against the table behind him. The magnoculars were surprisingly heavy – probably about ten pounds – and had all sorts of levers and dials attached to them as well as a neck strap.

“You can fix it to your tactical vest by those clips on the back,” he said, referring to four sturdy-looking clasps she’d just noticed on the underside of the box-like casing as he fastened his huge anti-materiel rifle over his shoulders with a three-way strap and tightened it so that it wouldn’t swing. “You can also carry these for me:” he handed over two magazines of five armour-piercing rounds, each weighing at least seven pounds, that she fixed around her hips.

Nerf gave her a hard cuff on the shoulder when she was done. “Alright, come with me.”

 

Weapon platforms were mounted on the roof, mortar crews were standing by to disembark, fire-team leaders reported they were good-to go:

“Time?” Princeton enquired.

The Cadian in the driver’s seat looked back over his shoulder; “Four minutes off the five-kilometre mark, sir,” he said.

The Major nodded to show that he understood. The command platform around him was alive with activity – the perfection that was the well-drilled Cadian military machine.

“Give the sniper teams their orders and get them on the ground,” he said, and was instantly obeyed.

 

Andre placed the last two mortars delicately down on the off ramp before sharing a few pleasant words with the Cadians mortar crews and trundling off again to see if there was anything else Ricketts needed him to do in the armoury. Watching him go, Spider was starting to get antsy, and her constant moving around made her cloak rustle like wind through leaves.

“That’s enough, kid,” Nerf called her over, slapping a section of the vibrating inner wall with his gloved hand; “plant your butt right here and calm down.”

The teenager did what she was told and rested her hands on her knees. Twinges of excitement were circling her guts at an alarming rate and her heart felt like it was going to burst. She couldn’t believe this was really her – she was actually going with Nerf into the field in a life or death situation! She felt needed, important, useful – and at the same time terrified.

“Wha’re you two supposed to be?”

Spider looked up when Murty Lightfort stomped into room with a broad smile of self-importance plastered on his face. Curly haired with a round face, the ratling was dressed in dark tiger-stripe camouflage fatigues and wore a bandolier of ammunition across his chest with a long-rifle – likely longer than he was tall – over his shoulder. Of course, is hairy flat feet were bare.

Spider tried not to look at him, but he was looking at her when he recognized the girl under the camo cloak.

“A woman?!” he nearly shouted in mock surprise, drawing a few looks from the Cadian mortar crews who were checking over their weapons nearby. “Women don’t belong on the battlefield!”

“I think ratlings belong there even less,” Nerf stepped forward, towering over the half-sized man in both size and strength, “the only reason your people are marksmen is because you’re too small to be anything else!”

Spider laughed, but Murty didn’t look particularly put off by the Catachan’s remarks. The Cadians seemed to be ignoring them.

“I’d like to hear her laugh when she’s sucking my c***!” the ratling quipped back, making eyes at the teenager and grabbing his crotch for emphasis. “That’s probably what you’re best at anyway!”

There was no way the Cadians could ignore that, but they weren’t about to dirty their hands between auxiliaries if they started a fight. Nerf shook his head in disgust and turned his back on the little man. “Just ignore him,” he told Spider.

“Yeah, ‘course he’ll say that. He’s just thinkin’ the same thing! You bet he wants to slip it in between those pretty lips…”

Spider swallowed hard, gritted her teeth, and looked away.

“Just remember who’ll be watching your back out there,” Nerf called over his shoulder to the ratling, taking a position between him and the girl. Spider looked up at the commando, silently thanking him for being there.

“Haha! Not you! You’ll be too busy watching hers as you ride her ass!”

“Just ignore the little prick,” Nerf told her calmly, “he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

The ratling wasn’t going to let up, however: “Oh, I’ll be thinking about you all night, girly,” he said, making a slow pumping motion with his hand over his groin. “You can think of me too, suckling on your sweet pink tits and putting my fingers up in you as you moan like a whore!” he laughed.

The teenager snapped. Her silver bladed knife was out in a flash, but Nerf got in the way, holding her back as she swore she’d kill the ratling right then and there. Murty howled with laughter, throwing more obscene jokes as the Cadians finally intervened.

Spider couldn’t focus, couldn’t think.

Mist.

Fire.

Blood.

Lots of blood, so much that she could drown in it.

She was drowning, dying.

She could hear laughter – not Murty’s, someone else’s

“Get a hold of yourself!”

Nerf had her head in his hands and was pressing her against the wall. Her eyes rolled but eventually met his. Sweat was sticking to her clothes. The room around them was quiet. Everyone was watching, even Murty.

Blinking once, twice, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“I’m good,” she said when she opened them, “thanks. I’m good.”

The Catachan let her go but stayed close, shielding her from view. She could feel her skin prickling and burning. That was too close.

“What the hell are you people doing!? Stand to attention!”

Whatever happened over the past few minutes was quickly brushed aside as a big Cadian sergeant marched into the room and soldier and aux alike quickly formed up. Murty, Nerf, and Spider were on one side, the Cadian mortar crews on the other. Satisfied, the sergeant approached the snipers and looked them up and down.

“Alright, listen up,” he said in a level voice, “our recon teams have come under mortar fire up at the DC. We suspect there is a spotter hiding out somewhere up there with a view of the whole damn Crossing. We can’t move up while he is still there, so it is up to you guys to get into position under the cover of darkness and take him out at first light. Our mortar teams will be standing by in case you need fire support. Once he’s gone, you give the signal, and the rest of us can move up to support you. Got it?”

They got it.

“Good,” he said, “now as soon as we stop moving that will be your signal to move out.”

They acknowledged, and the sergeant saluted them once before turning to address the Cadian mortars.

In a matter of moments the HCC ground to a halt and the rear hatch was lowered. Murty darted out first, disappearing through the spot lights into the dark night outside the transport. Nerf waited for a bit.

“You ready for this?” he asked Spider.

She nodded. “I’m good,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.

The big Catachan grinned. “Okay then,” he said, “let’s go.”

 

*

 

The T-41 had stopped moving about ten minutes ago, meaning that Nerf and Spider were gone into the night by now, and that Princeton’s plan to secure the Crossing was underway. It also meant that Godwyn was lying face up on her bunk with nothing to do because she was a ‘civilian’ whose usefulness did not extend to war. The Major needed her people, but did not need her.

She shut her eyes and tried to get some sleep, but she couldn’t even do that. After ten days of constant noise and movement, the sudden silence was giving her a headache.

Not having moved from the upper bunk since Nerf and Spider had left the compartment, Mercy was leaning over the side and gazing dreamily down at the Inquisitor with her sparkling violet eyes as her long fingered hand brushed lightly back and forth against her lover’s brow. Like Godwyn right now, the assassin never had anything to do. Being a mute giant with no guns and no armour meant that her subtleties were lost on both Cadians and auxiliaries alike: as far as they cared to know, she might as well have been the trader’s secretary. Of course Mercy wasn’t about to go out of her way to prove them wrong, and she seemed to prefer being bored and daydreaming than actually trying to contribute. What she really wanted was sex – sex and violence being the most immediate and obvious ways of satisfying her urges – but though the Inquisitor knew her mind, she also knew that there was no room for taking chances so long as they were with the Cadians. Sex would have to wait.

A noise in the hall suddenly caught the killer’s attention, stopping her in what she was doing and drawing a curious look from her face as she turned towards the door. The look of curiosity quickly turned to one of spite, and her lips curled briefly before she disappeared from the side of the bunk and Godwyn heard her flop down above her with deliberate force. Moments later, the door slid open and Aquinas ducked his huge frame inside.

“A word, Godwyn?” he said without preamble.

 

The Inquisitor followed the librarian along the corridor and down a deck until they reached a secondary hatch that led outside.

“You are dismissed, soldier,” Aquinas told the auxiliary on sentry duty, and watched him as he climbed back into the HCC and closed the door. It was nearing midnight, and beyond the bright yellow glow of the transport’s floodlights the world was black and cold. It was quiet also, with the only noise being the steady hiss of filtrations systems venting white wisps of steam into the air through surface level exhaust ports.

“What is it, Aquinas?” Godwyn asked once they had made sure that no one else was around to hear them. Whatever it was he wanted to talk about he’d have to hurry – the Cadians might deploy their mortar teams in any minute now that the snipers had left.

“Leto,” he said, “I have discovered his identity.”

“Who is he?”

“He is a psyker, and he is powerful.”

Her stomach sank. “How do you know this?”

“I have been searching the skeins of the Warp for traces of his presence,” Aquinas explained quite calmly, “and, though it was not without effort, I have found him. He is still on this world, and he is close.”

“Is he a threat?”

The librarian gave her a sideways glance. “He is not our ally.”

“That doesn’t mean he has to be our enemy.”

“I do not believe he is here for any reason other then why we are here. He wants the mirror, and he is very close to finding it.”

Hugging herself in the cool air, Godwyn glared up at the transport’s metal hide. “If we can even reach him in time, then how do we fight him?” she wanted to know.

“I do not think he yet realizes our presence,” the space marine replied. “When I found him, the traces of his passing in the Warp seemed distracted, occupied. With any luck that will still be the case when we find him, and we can use that to our advantage.”

It was something to hope for, Godwyn agreed, but it also begged as to what could distract a space marine psyker from obtaining his goal for that long.

“Which leads me to another matter,” Aquinas said. “Spider.”

“What about her?”

The look in his ice-blue eyes told her that she knew to what he referred, though he put his thoughts into words regardless. “While I appreciate that your company is allowing her to strengthen her mind, I will remind you that she is with us now for a very specific reason.”

“I know,” the Inquisitor said without needing to be reminded.

“Good, then I will also remind you that jeopardizing her purpose here means risking everything we have accomplished to date.”

Godwyn knew that as well, though she had difficulty remembering what path of logic had led her to giving Nerf the go-ahead to take the girl with him.

“You know that she is attracted to him, do you not?”

She arched an eyebrow; “Why is that a problem?”

Aquinas’ features were utterly blank, showing not even the slightest feeling of empathy to what he was discussing. “Emotion destroys the discipline of a mind,” he told her flatly, “hope, fear, love, or hatred felt too greatly can overrule reason, and to an untrained psyker erring in such a way can be fatal. You recall what happened on the station?”

“It’s hard not to,” she replied coldly.

“Then you know what is at stake. She thinks she loves your Catachan, and regardless of whether or not he cares for her the gradual erosion of her will in such a manner with have dire consequence for both her and what we are doing here.”

“You think she could be possessed?”

The librarian nodded darkly; “Should she be allowed to continue with her feelings for him, she may even do so willingly.”

“Impossible,” Godwyn shook her head. “She’s not mad enough to do something like that.”

“You do not know a psyker’s mind,” Aquinas warned her. “No matter how much she may seem like a young woman to you, Spider is but a hair’s breadth away from your darkest fears. She is a mutant. It is almost a miracle that she has lasted as long as she has.”

“So you are suggesting that we forcibly separate them? Keep in mind that I’m not about to lose Nerf over this.”

“I respect your decision in that regard,” the space marine inclined his head in her direction, “though I suggest you speak to the Catachan. Remind him of who it is he is dealing with.”

She would, though whether or not it was Aquinas or Spider he needed to be worried about was yet to be seen.

 

*

 

Spider woke up to Nerf shaking her shoulder back and forth. Her cheek was pressed into the dirt, and her legs felt cramped. She’d been dreaming of something she’d never seen before, where water met sand and the horizon – she’d have to ask Aquinas what it meant. It didn’t take long, however, to remember where she was now.

Dawn was breaking in thin white lines over the horizon, turning the sky a soft greyish blue and sending the first rays of warmth over the damp ground. They’d left the transport behind several hours earlier and had spent half the night picking their way through the starlit forest before crawling the last few metres through the dirt and fallen leaves to where they were lying amongst the undergrowth atop a small ridge overlooking Descanso Crossing. The night before they’d seen nothing – just blackness where the tree-line subsided – but now, blinking her eyes awake, Spider slowly lifted her head to see the entirety of the Crossing laid out before them in the early morning gloom.

Nerf was close beside her, his rifle propped with its metal feet dug into the dirt. He’d been like that since he’d told Spider to get some sleep.

“How d’you feel?” he asked, not moving a muscle from where he was bent over his rifle peering down the scope. She could hardly see him in the shadows, but she nodded all the same. Her throat was dry, her body was stiff, and she could feel a cramp building in her pelvis.

“I feel good,” she answered him a whisper.

“Good,” it was so quiet in the morning that she could hear the breath whistling through his nose, “soon it will be light enough for us to go to work.”

The ridge they’d crawled on to was at the top of a small escarpment that overlooked the rail-lines as they ran along the hillside south of their position and into the crater-strewn wreckage of what might have been a rail-depot. Nothing over five-feet tall remained in the ruins below, showing that they’d had taken repeated beatings from heavy fire since the war broke out. Past the ruins were more craters and unrecognizable piles of strewn rubble, and further south still was the land bridge.

Looking father forward, Spider could make out at least a dozen twisted and broken rail-lines crossing the bridge, though from their vantage point it was hard to tell just how long the bridge actually was. It looked whole, however, and a gently flowing river passed underneath it through several open channels. A couple of towers overlooking the bridge seemed to be more or less intact, though it was still too dark to tell if there was anything to be seen through the broken glass in the windows.

On the south side of the bridge there were more ruins that were just about as flat as those to the north of it. Using the magnoculars, Spider managed to dial in for a closer look, but there wasn’t much to see until the ruins turned into a hillside leading back up to more trees.

“Take a look to the south-east, all the way up on the ridgeline,” Nerf said from beside her.

She panned the magnoculars over. Squatting on the ridgeline was what looked like an old, dilapidated manor house surrounded by an overgrown hedgerow that obscured the lower half of it from view. Turning the dial with her middle finger, Spider focused in on what she could see. The white stucco coating looked like it had sustained some damage from weapons fire and most of the windows under the sagging rooftop were blown out, but the distance and low-light made it impossible to see if there was any movement.

Slowly, she lowered the magnoculars from her eyes – the house looked like a blip in the distance. Nerf was still leaning over his rifle and peering down the sights.

“You’ll want to keep your eyes on that house,” he said. “It’s got a good view of the Crossing.”

He wasn’t expecting her to answer.

Minute by minute the sky was getting lighter. Soon they’d be able to see clearly.

Though she’d had only a couple of hours sleep at most, Spider didn’t feel the slightest bit tired. Her guts were tense, and her eyes were wide open. She was so excited that she needed to remember to breathe, but even so she couldn’t forget the cramping feeling down beneath her waist. It was getting really uncomfortable.

She tried shifting her body a little where she lay in the dirt to help her get over it.

“Don’t move,” Nerf hissed from beside her.

She stopped moving. She looked at him, working up to what she had to say.

“Nerf, I have to pee.”

The Catachan didn’t miss a beat. “Go in your pants.”

She waited three heartbeats before answering. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He hadn’t moved for hours.

Screwing up her face, Spider brought the magnoculars back up to her eyes and tried not to pay any attention to the warm feeling flowing down her legs. This was serious.

Her heart jumped when she saw movement a few moments later.

“Movement!”

“Where?”

“North side of the bridge in the ruins to the west!”

Slowly, Nerf angled the Mk. IV rifle to the right – the barrel turning closer to Spider.

“I don’t see anything,” Nerf whispered. “Give me an exact location.”

Spider zoomed the magnoculars back out from where she’d seen something move to get a better field of vision. “About three o’clock,” she used the words the commando had taught her, “just to the left of the red brick chimney.”

The rifle turned a little more.

The sun itself was now peeking over the horizon just far enough behind them not to be in their eyes.

“S***!” Nerf swore in a low whisper. “It’s f***ing Murty! He’s gonna get himself killed!”

Spider zoomed back in: sure enough she could see the end of a rifle, and a small body attached to it creeping forward through the ruins.

“Should we warn him?” she asked, her breathing suddenly feeling shallow as goose bumps rose up along the back of her neck.

“No,” Nerf replied, the green paint on his face blending in perfectly with the hood of his cloak. It was then that Spider realized the genius of their camouflage: looking sideways at the Catachan, she could hardly tell where his body stopped and the bushes around them began. A glow of warmth was building in her chest beside the excitement. If this is what it felt like to be truly happy, then this was the happiest time of her life.

“If the little f***er gets himself killed, that won’t be our problem,” he continued.

Spider went back to her magnoculars, slowly covering the ground before them in a single, ponderous sweep.

A flash caught her attention.

“What is that?” Nerf was blinking through his scope,

Noiselessly the teenager zeroed in. The sun was reflecting off of something in one of the towers by the bridge.

“Left tower!” Spider hissed. “Sun’s hitting something in there!”

Nerf’s rifle moved to the spot, but Murty had seen it too.

The crack of a rifle in the morning air was a startling sound, but Spider kept her cool.

“What the…?”

There was a second crack, then a third and a fourth – the glass plating around the left tower fell away in silence as Spider watched.

“Trigger happy idiot!” Nerf whispered beside her.

She kept her eyes focused on the tower. Whatever was catching the morning sunlight was still there.

“He thought it was a sniper’s scope,” the Catachan commented from behind his four-foot long anti-materiel rifle, “he’s gone and blown himself.”

Sure enough, Spider could see Murty trying to wriggle away now that he realized what he’d done.

“Whoever is out there isn’t stupid. They rigged that up specifically to draw fire.”

Two feet to his right, Spider looked briefly upon the ex-commando with a look of wonder. How did he know that?

Murty was still crawling through the ruins when they heard the first high-pitch screech followed by a murderous *thump*.

“Holy f - !”

Bits of dirt and rock were thrown dozens of feet into the air as the first mortar round landed no more than twenty-feet from Murty’s position. The ratling must have known he was screwed, because he dove to the ground and covered his head with his hands.

“Keep your cool, Spider,” Nerf told her. “Relax, they don’t know we’re here. Just stay cool and keep still. Can you do that for me?”

The sky was falling and she’d never been so scarred in her life as when the second and third shell landed around the first – throwing up more dust and dirt into the air. Nerf was still talking, even though she could hardly hear him through the howling shells.

The fourth and fifth came down dangerously close to where the ratling was hiding, but he was still alive until the sixth hit him almost directly – a lurch of psychic energy in her mind telling the teenager that the ratling had been killed. She didn’t feel bad about it, but when the barrage stopped six shells later she was shaking uncontrollably and cowering in fear.

“You did real good, Spider,” Nerf was whispering, still staring down his rifle but trying to comfort her, “you were great. I am very proud of you.” His right hand was rubbing up and down the back of her thigh to her bum in slow, methodical, kneading motions to get the fear out of her. Normally she would have been turned on by his touching her like that, but right now his hand was all that was keeping her from crying, and they both knew it.

“You’re safe, Spider. You’re going to be okay,” he was still saying in a soothing voice when she eventually dug herself out of the dirt and picked up her magnoculars. “Now, what do you say we find and bury that son of a b****?”

She felt better now, colder, calmer, but still the excitement and mingled fear was eating at her insides. She wanted to be closer to Nerf – she felt safer with him – but at the same time he had told her not to move, and she wouldn’t.

“Take a look at the right tower,” he instructed her.

“Nope, nothing. Clear.”

Her voice was shaking, but he pretended not to notice. “I still say it’s that f***ing house up there.”

Spider pointed the magnoculars back up the manor at the top of the ridge with the overgrown hedgerow. A shiver on the back of her neck told her that somewhere someone was doing the same thing looking for them. Their camouflage would hold though, she knew it had to. She trusted Nerf.

The manor looked even worse in the morning sunlight. Bullet holes riddled the walls, most of the shingles on the roof had been stripped bare, and –

“Movement!” she yelped – her heart soaring.

“Where?”

“Middle window, top floor!”

The hammer-head muzzle breaker of the Mk. IV panned slowly in the manor’s direction. Nerf was muttering something to himself.

“Gimme one pulse on that location.”

Lowering the magnoculars from her eyes to find the red button that controlled the infrared beam, Spider got the manor house in her sights and pressed it – the reading came back almost instantly.

“One-three-four-six metres,” she said.

“Interesting,” Nerf lifted his head from his rifle and touched the comm. bead in his ear:

“Fire control, can you get a fix on my position?”

He waited a few seconds for the response. Spider kept her eyes on the manor house.

“Requesting fire mission on target one-three-four-six approximately ten degrees off my south facing. Copy?”

He waited again for a few moments, then smiled; “Time for those bastards to get a taste of their own.”

Nerf nestled back onto his rifle. Spider kept watching; her eyes now glued to the magnoculars’ lenses.

The first round of shells fell on the other side of the hedgerow and threw up plumes of dirt in front of the house. She didn’t hear anything until the second round of shells hit, however, and shattered part of the roof and blew the front off the right most side of the house in a colossal shower of dust and splintered wood. The sound of thunder had never felt as magnificent as when it rolled back towards them across the ruins of the Crossing. That was their thunder. It belonged to them.

Behind the magnoculars, Spider felt herself smiling.

“There we go, kid,” Nerf was saying, “We’ve done our job.”

She was still smiling when she spotted movement inside the house.

“Left most window at the top floor!” she said aloud.

Nerf ducked back over his rifle and focused in. The shells were now falling behind the ruined house.

“Give me a pulse on that guy,” the Catachan asked.

Spider pressed the red button: same as before.

Nerf twisted a few dials on the rifle’s scope. It looked like person in the window had a rifle of his own. With Spider next to him, Nerf let out a slow breath through his nose, made one last-minute adjustment, and clicked the trigger.

The rifle kicked into Nerf’s shoulder like a living thing and roared loud enough to split the sky as the bullet tore from the barrel faster than the eye could hope to see.

Spider waited in silence, so did the Catachan.

Two seconds later the person in the window disappeared from view – the high-velocity bullet blowing him into a pink mist of pulped body parts, shattered bone, and spraying blood.

Nerf worked the bolt with grim satisfaction and dropped a single, smoking shell casing onto the dirt between them where it bounced twice and then stopped. Lowering the magnoculars to the ground, the teenager looked down at the shell, then up at the shooter. Nerf was grinning.

“We’ve done some good work,” was all he said.

[Olis]

Nice. Good to see that slimy git of a ratling get his comeuppance. :D

[Taranis]

Nice. Good to see that slimy git of a ratling get his comeuppance. ;)

It reminds me of a stallone movie. "That's no way to talk to a lady".

 

Great chapter. Good description and realism.

 

If Leto is a pseudonym for Fabius Bile it will seriously jeopardize the coming of part IV. :lol:

[Brother-Sergeant Bohemond]

another couple of great updates, cant say I miss that ratling though....

[Lady_Canoness]

another couple of great updates, cant say I miss that ratling though....

 

To be honest, I thought I *might* have overdone it with the ratling - but at least he got what was coming to him! :) And I got to put Nerf and Spider in 40k gillie suits!

 

I'm glad that you guys are liking the Inquisition III as you are, and I am brainstorming how I can keep the good things coming in Inquisition IV.

 

Up to this point you have read 101,820 words of Inquisition III - though by my estimation there are 3 or 4 parts left to go!

 

What will happen? Well, hopefully there will be a few surprises yet, a gut-wrenching scene or two, and perhaps a scene that makes you go 'Aaaaaaaaw'. ;)

 

We shall see!

[Aqui]

and perhaps a scene that makes you go 'Aaaaaaaaw'. :(

 

"In the Grim darkness of the 41st Millennium, there is only...Aaaaaaaaaaaw!"

 

:)