Hide and seek

Welcheren · July 3, 2016

Please feel free to rip this to pieces with critique. Scathing criticism is more useful than nothing.

Regardless of the impetus fueling its onward march, all ambitions calculated in the absence of the last truth must inevitably collapse in its collision with that final and unforgiving axiom. Evil exists.

*****

“My lord, the 22^ndseeks permission to make a tactical withdra-” I interrupted the comms-officer before he could continue his redundant report.

“The order to hold position has already been relayed,” I confirmed.

The man whom we were both addressing responded in slow, measured tones: “Has there been any word from your General?”

“No, my lord,” I responded with a misplaced sense of embarrassment;the General’s absence was hardly my fault. Nor was the guarded silence of the remaining officers around the green glow of the holo-map.

“Good. That saves me the trouble of countermanding him.” When Throne Agent Malig spoke again, his voice was unsurprised and distant. Every syllable was drawn out and carefully pronounced, after the manner of a mind already several paces ahead of the conversation, and occupied with the move beyond the next move. “Now,revoke your last order to the 22^nd. Withdraw them.”

An inchoate desire to object wriggled in my throat, as if some doctrine of my training as a commissar demanded it. The comms-officer, on the other hand, snapped to attention as if a spring in his spine had been unloaded, but he did not convey the new order. Instead, his fingers and lips trembled as he struggled to broach the obvious problem. I decided to save him the trouble, “How, my lord? How do we withdraw them?”

The agent had turned his back to me now, to face the holo-map: “The line of buildings on the opposite side of that river, Commissar Julia – order a rocket run.”

None of the ranking officers inside the command node voiced the next problem. By silent consent the task had been designated tome. “My lord, I understand you only arrived several hours ago. Perhaps the disposition reports have not been circulated all round. Our current airborne assets cannot effect a sustained barrage.”

Agent Malig turned round, but his eyes were still distant and distracted, calculating an equation no one else could see. Despite the dim, green light, and despite the nature of our situation, I reluctantly observed that most women would probably have described him as handsome. “I request only a single run. The Tau are casualty conscious. Wait two minutes,then follow the run with Manticore bombardments here, here and over there. When the first rockets hit, withdraw the 22^nd.”

“Our armoured assets are equally limited.” Despite my hesitation, admiration had stolen into my voice.As I weighed his plan, its viability seemed increasingly less ridiculous.

“All we need to accomplish is to make them lose their taste for this confrontation.Then we pull back, regroup, and prepare for the inevitable counter attack.”

Ten hours later, I submitted the day’s battle report to Agent Malig. He was lounging like an aristocrat on a long red couch in a tiny apartment, hastily arranged for his use. We had received no warning of his arrival, nor any explanation.

“The 22^nd Mechanised suffered heavy casualties, but a fraction more than 57% made it out.”

“Machines or lives?”

I couldn’t quite ascertain whether a concealed rebuke was in his voice. Commissars have a nasty reputation. A reputation I had found useful until now. “Both, my lord,” I confirmed after consulting the report.

“I want to see your General.” With an abrupt burst of energy in his hitherto languid limbs, Agent Malig leaped to his feet and set off at such a pace, I was forced to jog my short legs to catch up.

“No response from his office has been forthcoming,” I tested.

The agent grinned, “That hardly stopped me from directing today’s engagement.”

“No my lord.” I cautiously allowed a little admiration to show in my voice. Despite my initial misgivings, I can recognise a competent soldier and a judicious tactician when I meet one.More importantly, from all the stories I’d heard, these two qualities should not be expected in creatures like Malig.

“You resent my interference with your military endeavours Commissar?”

I was caught off guard. He must have misunderstood my tone. “If anyone does, I doubt the survivors of the 22^nd share the sentiment.”

He was still just ahead of me, so I missed the opportunity to gauge the agent’s reaction.

“This castle,” he changed the topic: “it seems rather a strange place for an HQ.”

“The original was put out of commission by the Tau one week before you arrived.”

“And its name? Bulkonsky Keep?”

“Named after some General who hailed from this world.”

“A hero?”

“So they say. I never really asked. I know he was declared dead five hundred years ago. His ship was lost somewhere along the Eastern Fringe. The current General Bulkontz is a descendant of some kind.”

One of General Bulkontz’s chief aides rushed up to meet us, her traditional long black robes sweeping the floor. The hallway leading to the High Office was a mad bustle of activity, with data-slates being couriered from one end to the other, but the usual detail of Storm Trooper bodyguards were not in evidence.The aide bowed deferentially, “Honoured lord, esteemed Commissar”. She flourished her left hand in a gesture native to the backward peoples of this world.

“We are here to consult the General,” Agent Malig announced. His voice was gentle and sympathetic, as if he were addressing the most pitiable person on the planet.

“The General, my revered lord and Commissar, is unavailable, unfortunately.”Her voice remained relatively steady. “Urgent matters of war demanded he visit another installation farther south.We have no certain date for his return.”

“Of course. We shall wait patiently,” the agent responded with an equanimity that nearly tipped my boots over. This was not at all what I had come to expect of his rank. Evidently, the General’s aide was equally caught off balance when the agent turned on his heel and strolled away.There was something approximating contentment in his confident strut.

“This makes the next step a fraction less complicated,” he commented easily when I had caught up. He was heading for the command node whence he had orchestrated yesterday’s fight.

“My lord?”

“A counter attack is eminent, Commissar. It constitutes a pivotal aspect of the Tau way of war. Almost like the Tallarns.”

“The Tallarns?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, with the consequence that I accidentally overtook him by several steps. “The Tallarn Desert Rai- never mind.”When he resumed his walk with redoubled speed, my face was afire with mortification. “The vital thing is to ascertain the target of their counter offensive. And I believe I know precisely what it will be.”

Not wanting to repeat another my lord?, I waited a moment, but he did not speak again. So, despite myself, and because I was genuinely curious: “What is your theory, my lord?”

He gestured casually to the lumen-strips blinking owlishly in the arched ceiling of the castle’s corridors. “You’ve been running only 50% of the lighting, and several technically non-essential machines have been deactivated. Which is also, regrettably, why I have not yet been afforded the comfort of a bath despite travelling three days through snow to get here.”

I waited a short while, “So the counter attack my lord?”

“Is it true that you have lost communication with the sun farms in orbit?”

“Yes my lord. We are sure they have not been destroyed, or there would have been quite the meteor shower. But the power supply from orbit has been capricious.”

“Exactly,” he snapped his fingers, “So if the Tau destroyed the major power plant at Five Rivers…” and to emphasise his point, he drew a finger over his throat. We had reached the command node.

The agent’s right to resume command of all forces in the area had just been established when the reports streamed in.

“We have lost contact with the tech priests at the Five Rivers plant,” a thick-bearded Colonel in a well-worn uniform named Lock paraphrased the information flowing in from a print-machine.“Our soldiers on the perimeter report at least four groups of Tau battlesuits. So far all attempts to retake the plant have been repulsed.” He glanced back at the paper pooling at feet, “With 63% casualties.”

“Rather steep,” the agent observed.

“Light infantry my lord. Previous actions compelled us to assign the heavies closer to the front. We could n-”

“You did not anticipate this.And our enemy anticipated exactly that. How long can we operate here if the Tau successfully ceased the flow of power from Five Rivers?”

“Three days my lord,” a mid-level staff officer with a tan face and ridiculous red hair answered: “Provided that all our backup generators remain functional.”

“Surely, my lord,” the bearded Colonel Lock continued, “the Tau will destroy the plant as soon as possible and withdraw. We have confirmation that some Skitarri resistance inside the plant remains.”

“So,” the red-head piped up in an ill-timed attempt to curry favour, “if we reinforce the troops on the perimeter adequately and push har-”

“Withdraw all your soldiers beyond missile range,” Agent Malig ordered coolly.

“My lord, forgive me, but I must in-” Colonel Lock began.

“That is not the way of this enemy. They have no intention of destroying the plant. Certainly, they will starve us into submission as soon as possible, but ideally they hope to keep the plant intact.” The agent strolled over to a large stone bust of General Bulkonsky and rested his own placid visage against the bald, firm features, “Who’s in overall command of recon forces?”

A clean-shaven, blue-eyed and bald officer I knew as Ben rose to his feet. He was a man who seemed older than he was, and yet when you learned his age, he seemed too young for his rank. Earlier in his career his ship had emerged from the warp to discover that more thanthree decades had passed in real-space.

“My apologies Agent, but”, Colonel Lock persisted: “how can you possibly know how the Ta-”

Malig calmly raised a hand to cut the Colonel off. His eyes closed for a moment and then he pointed one finger at Lock: “That would take too long to explain. Now,” he turned to Ben,“unless I miss my guess, an armoured column supported by skimmers will soon break out from the Tau lines. Their objective will be to relieve the squads currently holding the Five Rivers plant, and to consolidate their hold.” Malig clapped his hands together and looked round the dark command node. Briefly, he made eye contact with every ranking officer, focusing especially on Lock and Ben. His voice had grown firmer, but remained strangely congenial, “Friends. We will not waste resources on retaking the plant. Our priority is to stop the enemy’s tank column from reaching it. And all we need to do is blunt their advance. Use our armour wisely. Pull the Tau into urban areas and rely on small groups of infantry with portable anti-armour weapons. Once the mad dash for the Five Rivers has ground to a halt, all the gifted minds here assembled can apply their collective wisdom to formulating the best solution for retaking the plant. I suggest you manage all this within three days.”

With this exhortation delivered, he stepped towards the door, seizing my elbow on the way, and ignoring several petitions for attention from the room.

“My dear Commissar,” he whispered in a weirdly conspiratorial and conversational tone, “I will need your help now. I am convinced that someone on this planet has betrayed the Emperor’s light for the xenos’ caprice.”

A revitalised vigour coursed through my mind at the prospect of proving myself, “The xenos’ knowledge of our power supply is uncanny. The solar farms are an oddity – a remnant from before the Crusade, as is the Five Rivers plant.”

“Precisely,” he smiled and snapped his fingers. “Our colleagues in that room are my prime suspects at present. I will need your eyes and ears. And keep your pistol close at hand.”

“Why permit me into your confidence? Hypothetically, I could be the traitor.”

In response, Agent Malig’s face pulled into a pained rictus. “What a terrifying day - when a Commissar betrays an oath.” I couldn’t tell whether he was being honest or frivolous. “Oh, yes – keep this with you.” He pressed a comms-bead into my hand. “I need to run an errand.”

All C&C welcome.

Welcheren · July 4, 2016

Part 2

Four days prior to the retreat of the 22^nd Mechanised:

Captain Ben did not care much for the dank, close corridors at the back of the castle, especially these tight spiral staircases, but that was fine compared to what waited outside. Outside, the night was cold and cloudless.He had only just traversed the courtyard when the smell struck him. Like a boot to the solar plexus, it threatened to dislodge an earlier meal. A strange cry, such as he had never heard before the urgent retreat from HQ to this isolated castle, sounded close by.Steam rose over the low wall of the stable for General Bulkontz’s horses. Captain Ben had never seen or heard, or smelled horses before in his life. A figure detached itself from the shadows of an ammunition stack by the stables, and saluted smartly.

“Give me the reek of oil, grease, and fuel any day over this stink. At ease Sergeant,” Ben closed the distance to the veteran and offered him a cigarette.

“There are worse things sir, of course. I hear tell the people on this planet once used them beasts for war. Hear that’s where their word cavalry’s from.”

“Our Salamanders will serve better against the xenos. How are the troops?”

“A bit irritable at their friends in the 13^th losing so many Lemans and Chimeras, not to mention allowing the proper HQ to get destroyed, but overall, their itching to get stuck in.”

“Good. We’ll all get our chance soon.” Ben lit his own cigarette and gave the sergeant a few seconds to enjoy the small luxury. “And the other matter?”

The sergeant formed three flawless smoke rings and continued without making eye contact. “No one much cares for the Gen’s aristocratic ways, sir. But the overall view is that he’s done a decent job so far. No one blames him for the muck-up by the 13^th. Mostly though, given that we’re standing on his home world, many troops feel he’s more likely to try and save it. Rare thing, in my experience, a general fighting on his home world.”

“Thank you Sergeant.” Ben made his own attempt at a smoke ring, before broaching the next point. “And the other matter?” The sergeant’s discomfort was palpable. “I understand, Sergeant. This work is hardly what an honourable soldier looks for, but given the dishonourable bastards we’re facing – I need to know.”

“Of course sir. Far as I could find out – being supple and all – there’s no sign of that sort of thing.”

Ben released a cloud of smoke,alongside a sign of relief. “Excellent.” He broke the conversation with an informal salute and made his way to the hangers. A Salamander scout vehicle designated as his personal transport was parked in a separate bay. Another flight of constricted spiral stairs brought him back to his cherished machine. Even in the dark his fingers deftly found the latest scars in her paintwork. A sound directly behind him - and his hand was instantly on the laspistol at his hip. But he knew who this would be. If not for the lack of light, if he turned around now, he would see a man with dark hair, dark skin and dark eyes behind him.

“Agent Malig.” Ben turned to face a shadow beside the chassis. First, he filled his lungs from the cigarette, before speaking, “Your intelligence proved correct.”

“Then are you satisfied as to my credentials? I assume the Inquisitor has contacted you.”

“I have received a communique which, as far as I can tell right now, seems to be from your superior, but I can’t seek firmer confirmation with the enemy all over orbit.”

He knew Agent Malig was grinning, regardless the limitations imposed on his vision. “Your skepticism is commendable.” The figure made something like a theatrical flourish, “By the character of my deeds you shall know me, and judge my words. How does my count of the Tau force compare to your scouts’?”

“The enemy is certainly numerous enough to pose a major threat to Bulkonsky Keep.”

“And you’ve only recently lost so much of your armour.”

Ben sought the kiss of his cigarette to conceal the surprise pushing up from his gut, before remembering that the lack of light made this unnecessary. If he had not believed all the stories about the callousness of Throne Agents, he would have sworn there was a note of regret and rebuke in Malig’s voice. Then he wondered how the agent had learned about the losses incurred by the 13^th.

“A great deal of our resources were relocated two years ago. We had less than we needed to begin with.”

“Threats against the Imperium abound. The Emperor expects us to make do with what is available. And you certainly can. This enemy is hardly unbeatable.”

Ben discarded his cigarette to the concrete floor, “General Bulkontz has been made aware of the build-up.”

“What has he placed between the xenos and this castle?”

“The 22^nd Mechanised and the 16^thArmoured.” Ben’s shadowy interlocutor digested the information for a few slow seconds during which he lit a new cigarette. Normally, he never smoked this much, but on this sort of work he fully shared his sergeant’s sentiments.

The next words came slowly and as if the mind producing them were far away, “You should recommend the transfer for the 37^th as well.”

“That thought has occurred to me as well, but I suppose the General is reluctant to leave the Five Rivers power plant so lightly guarded.”

“Convince him. Exaggerate the reports from you recon troops if need be. In return, I offer you this.” The agent passed a single data slate to Ben.

“What is it?”

“My trust, and my plan.”

“Something a little less opaque would be welcome.”

“Of course. It’s a record of classified battle reports from the first Damocles incident. Study them, and you will observe a pattern. This enemy has shown a proclivity for circumventing major strong points in favour of exposed targets. Do you understand?”

“No,” Ben relied unabashed, and perhaps a little too forcefully. His patience was drying up, despite the fearful reputation of people like Malig.

“I am suggesting that we offer the Five Rivers as a lure.”

Ben lost whatever incentive he had felt to hide his emotions, “It’s responsible for nearly all military power in this area, especially now that the sun farms hav-”

“Precisely.”

“No. This is mad.”

“I expected you would be ideally suited to appreciate this plan. Given your experience with the Elysian Drop Troops.”

“I’m not following,” this time Ben’s disgust did the work of concealing his surprise at the agent’s knowledge of his military career.

“Do you remember Eindhoven?” Silence. “This time, we lure the Tau into making that mistake. If the power plant is exposed, it will be attacked by jump troops, instructed to hold it intact until armoured relief arrives. We prevent the enemy column from reaching their friends in the plant, using the same tactics as the recidivists on Eindhoven. We have the means to deal the xenos a critical blow.”

In a corner of his mind that Ben was not willing to acknowledge right now, he reflected that Malig must have comprehended something of the afflictions brought on by recounting Eindhoven. Because so far the agent had delicately avoided explicit mention of Ben’s failure to relieve the Elysian Drop Troops in time, and the massacre that followed.

“I understand,” Ben replied when he suddenly realised he had been silent for four minutes.

“I expect the General will express some resistance to this idea, but by then I will be there to deal with him personally. Now, I will need your help with one other matter.”The discomfort in Ben’s bowels were beginning to morph into anger. Good. It was a more familiar sensation. But the change did not prepare him for the next statement. “I believe there is a xenos traitor among the command staff. At present I favour Colonel Lock and the General as my prime suspects. Both are well placed to inflict maximum damage.”

“If that’s your only criteria you might as well suspect me. I’ve known Colonel Lock for years. His record-”

“He’s also due for a promotion soon – and he already knows it. I agree he seems the least likely candidate of the two, bearing in mind how much he has to gain from beating the Tau.On the other hand, the General’s store of motives is better stocked. For one, this is his home world. Perhaps he is desperate to avoid the inevitable damage of a protracted war. In addition, his family has suffered quite grievously owing to the incompetence of their superiors.”

“Personal loss is a tragedy every soldier in the Imperium accepts. If your Ordos persecuted every officer who’s lost family members - you’d be doing nothing else.”

“A sound observation. Whatever the case, someone has already spread the word among our rank and file that surrender to the Tau will be answered with clemency.”

“I have information to the contrary.”

Suddenly the agent became exasperated, “Which you gleaned from a trusted sergeant. I, on the other hand, assign less value to his testimony. Now, before you object, tell me more about this Commissar.”

“Commissar Julia?”

“Has she and the General been in regular contact?”

“As far as I know they’ve hardly met. Although he did explicitly call for her presence among the command staff. A security measure I presume.”

Agent Malig made no reply for a long time.

Finally, “Captain. Your services will not go unrewarded. You have my word. If I might have some time to ruminate? Provided that all my predictions bear out, you and I will meet again soon in a less clandestine capacity. That should make you less doleful.”

Servant of Dante · July 5, 2016

This is really good!

I'm excited to see who the heretic is so I can watch them burn for the Emperor!

Welcheren · July 6, 2016

Thanks a bunch.

Working on a phase of editing - so more next week.

All criticism on lore and style (clunky sentences, over-description, poor dialogue, wonky characters, omission of detail, over-detail) welcome.

Welcheren · July 8, 2016

Part 3

The present: Two days since Malig predicted the Tau attack (Commissar Julia’s perspective).

“It’s a disaster,” Ben appraised in a low, fatigued voice.

Over the past two days and seven hours, I had become intimately familiar with as much background information as I could amass on every ranking officer in Bulkonsky Keep. I tried to balance this undertaking with keeping up to speed with a rapidly changing battle.

“What’s the latest from your tank-hunting teams?” Colonel Lock demanded with relative calm, his bulky form looming over the holo-map. The cold inside the command node turned his breath into white clouds, like smoke, but dyed by the green light.

“Communications have remained patchy. My operators are still being harassed by sniper fire. Most of the long range sets are out of commission. We’re relying on a series of short relays.”

“Your melta and missile teams around River Three?”

“We’ve lost all direct contact with them. From what I’ve been able to piece together, they were attacked last night by Tau infantry.”

“Infantry?” Colonel Lock’s eyes scythed between various markers on the holo-map. “Where did they come from?” The strain was edging into his voice. Long streams of vapour formed around his nostrils.

“They must be infiltrators of some kind. I have had no clear reports of their numbers or equipment, much less an account of how they managed to range so far ahead of their armour without detection.”

“Thone - - of - - Terra.” With the poor lighting inside the node I could hardly read his face, but the words sounded more like a missionary’s prayer rather than a soldier’s profanity. “Then I estimate their column will reach River Three in one hour. That leaves three miles between them and the plant.” The unarticulated words hung heavy as a gavel in the dark room: And somehow they have preserved sufficient firepower to make a final push across the intervening defences feasible.

“Colonel,” the ridiculous redhead’s meek little voice drifted up from a console behind Lock. He had been roundly chastised for his earlier lapse in etiquette.

“Yes?” There was no trace of rebuke in Lock’s voice now.

“The garrison on the perimeter around the Five Rivers is under attack.”

Lock’s face turned to stone with the effort to keep his emotions concealed. “Let me guess. Some kind of infiltrating infantry.”

“Supported by sniper fire, sir. And co-operating with the jump-teams already inside the plant, sir.”

Lock turned his eyes on me with glacial cold, “Where is Malig?”The omission of the agent’s rank was felt around the room like the punishing percussion of a detonation. As if by magic, the comms-bead in my ear came to life with the agent’s calm, almost jovial voice:

“Commissar, I hope you’re in good health. We have something of a situation on our hands. If you could bring Colonel Lock and Captain Ben to General Bulkontz’s office, please.”

Servant of Dante · July 8, 2016

Since you asked for comments, here are a few. Nothing major, and I didn't actually do this for the first 2 parts.

"demanded with relative calm" (paragraph 3) this sounds a little strange.

"The cold inside the command node turned his breath into white clouds, like smoke, but dyed by the green light." (paragraph 3) I really like this!

"had no unambiguous reports" (paragraph 8) could you say clear rather than unambiguous? It just sounds a little . . . ambiguous.

Interesting stuff! I love how impossible it is (for me) to tell who the heretic is! I shall continue to stockpile promethium!

Welcheren · July 9, 2016

Since you asked for comments, here are a few. Nothing major, and I didn't actually do this for the first 2 parts.

"demanded with relative calm" (paragraph 3) this sounds a little strange.

"The cold inside the command node turned his breath into white clouds, like smoke, but dyed by the green light." (paragraph 3) I really like this!

"had no unambiguous reports" (paragraph 8) could you say clear rather than unambiguous? It just sounds a little . . . ambiguous.

Interesting stuff! I love how impossible it is (for me) to tell who the heretic is! I shall continue to stockpile promethium!

Thanks.

Clear is, perhaps, better than unambiguous. Good point. The latter might not fit with officers trying to keep apace of battle developments.

The clause "demanded with relative calm" is intended to refer to the way commanders in 40K are invested in presenting imperturbable exterior in an effort to appear competent and to inspire confidence. Perhaps I didn't convey this adequately?

Welcheren · July 9, 2016

Part 4

Lock ploughed through the castle’s corridors like a steam locomotive in the rural districts of this planet. The misting of his breath added further colour to the picture. Ben’s blue eyes under the bald dome of his head were unreadable - as it always was in my presence, ever since he saw Agent Malig pass the comms-bead to me. But even he released a frosty gasp of air when we opened the unguarded double doors of the High Office.

“Friends, I know this is quite likely the worst possible moment, but we have a riddle to solve.” Malig was standing on one side of the General’s desk. The General occupied the other side. Both men had their weapons trained on the other.

Part 5

In a barely-acknowledged part of my head, I wondered why someone like Malig would be wielding a laspistol.

“By Terra! What’s going on here?”Lock demanded.

“A slightly clichéd, but relevant question Colonel. I have discovered that General Bulkontz has betrayed this world.”

“He’s lying!” spat the bull-necked, bald-headed General. His eyes narrowed behind their round spectacles. A tiny red light suddenly appeared on his chest.

“I have a sniper outside the window,” Malig explained.

“What you have is a servo skull hidden inside my office with a toy laser.”

“Agents of the Throne are rarely issued with toys, General.”

“Ah, but you are no Throne Agent.”

“General,” I intervened. “Lower your pistol. We must resolve this speedily. The battle is not going well.”

“Commissar! I have met Agent Malig. This is not him.”

“And I remember you, General,” Malig replied unperturbed, “You comprehendso little about the nature of our work. One of my undertakings since our last meeting has demanded reconstructive facial surgery.”The other two officers shifted uncomfortably. None of us had ever heard of such surgery.

“What a convenient explanation. I could ask for details of our last conversation, but I have something better for the audience. I can’t wait to hear you explain the matter of your DNA.” Malig simply raised an eyebrow. “My servants pilfered strands of your hair from the apartment you requisitioned, as well as saliva from your eating and drinking utensils.”

Instead of a dry quip, Agent Malig asked, “Are you about to suggest that you have records of Agent Malig’s DNA and that it does not match mine?” Everyone in the room knew how laughable that sounded.

“Of course I don’t! But I ran the DNA against our military records anyway. And it’s strangely similar to mine.”

“Interesting. Perhaps I am your ancestor. General Bulkonsky. Back from the dead.”

“I don’t know who you are! But you are not the Emperor’s servant!”

“I think we’d all like to see the DNA results you claim to have General.”

Confronted with the gentle calm in Malig’s demeanour, the General’s countenance became a warzone of doubt. His eyes fell to the floor, and for the first time the rest of us noticed a body sprawled behind his desk. What had seemed like a rumple of black blankets, was revealed to be the General’s chief aide when he rifled through her clothes. His visage was a purple blotch of rage when he rose again.

“What did you do with it!” Slowly the colour drained from his skin and his mouth settled back into a grin, “Well it hardly matters! I’m sure everyone here would be curious to see the experiment repeated.”

Klaxons erupted and reverberated along the low-tech stone walls of BulkonskyKeep, painfully at odds with its surroundings; like an uncouth revolutionary disrupting the serenity of age old customs.

“They can’t be here already!” Ben exclaimed. “It’s impossible.” Both Ben and Lock turned hastily for the tall double doors.

“Everyone stay precisely where you are!” the General bellowed at their backs, spittle flying from his thick lips.

“Julia,” the whisper struck a chord I had never heard before in the brief time Malig and I had known each other. Something about the cadence of his tone set my spine shivering. “Julia. I would be quite happy if you’d care to wake up now, Julia.”

Welcheren · July 10, 2016

Part 6

It is hope without faith that atrophies into despair. Despair is to see the vision of a hoped-for future in the absence of any means to attain it. Faith is to trust in promises that might provide the means. So it is faith that anchors and preserves hope, and hope that expands the scope and depth of faith. And these two enable me to live through the present, despite its painful contradictions with the future I long for.

*****

A row of corpses stretched out before me, a sight at once as familiar as the tools of war I had grown accustomed to, and yet for all its familiarity no less sickening – now that all the lies I had relied on to numb the horror had been peeled away and consciously acknowledged. The experience was still novel: being permitted to feel, and even express the revulsion and sense of tragedy that had always shifted and crawled somewhere on the margins of consciousness; no longer having to suppress these embryonic thoughts. At least not fully. Some sacrifice is always necessary.

At the end of the long line of dead Guardsmen began a new row – a queue of low tables with Eldar corpses. Even the sight of these shifted something inchoate and unacknowledged in a faraway part of myself. But unlike the Guardsmen, it would never resolve into fellow-feeling. Not quite.

I bent down to examine one of the Eldar more closely. Death from a hot shot, unmistakably. The next from a bolt round.

“How long have you been preserving these?”

“A full cycle,” Por’el Bork’an Ivin answered.

“I can’t imagine this sits well with your superiors?”

“Superiors? The first among equals – our equals Julia. But of course I understand your meaning. And your inference is accurate. This is regrettably grisly work. But we all recognise its necessity. Especially for curtailing such death as has yet to come.”

I have always scrutinised every syllable and subtle expression from Ivin – searching for even the slightest evidence of well-meaning mendacity; which I believed must be in there somewhere.

He looked at me with empathetic eyes, while I waited for him to question my own commitment to the project. But the challenge was never issued. “Are there more?” I turned to look back at the dead Guardsmen.

“Yes. Many. We all recognise the necessity of this. Including the earth caste without whom none of this would have been possible.”

Fio’vre Bork’an Igan was standing behind us by the entrance to this chamber. Looking deeply displeased at his own work, he surveyed the low tables at a maximum distance. But then again, Tau facial expressions are difficult to read, even – or perhaps especially - to an ex-Commissar.

“As you can see,” Ivin continued, “the original causes of these warriors’ deaths have been expertly concealed, and new ones assigned. Your success will, in part, depend on this. We have calculated the statistically most probable development of a small-scale battle with corsairs aboard The Prodigal. All the deceased warriors will be arranged accordingly, including the gun servitor that, as the stories goes, saved your life.”

“Making me the only survivor. Then, when I regain consciousness, I desperately pilot the craft to the surface of Muskov. And I account for the intervening years since my last documented location on the basis of warp travel.”

The door to the chamber whisked open as if dissolving into air, and a man stepped inside – a man with dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, and a handsome face. David. He was dressed in the coat of his new alias: Throne Agent Malig. He seemed distinctly unhappy.

“Well,” Ivin said, “if you have any questions, you know where to find us. The timetable has been finalised.”

David stepped closer as the two Tau vacated the chamber. “Have I told you before you’re as beautiful as a Tallarn sunset?” The smile on his lips was a dead thing.

“If you ever have, I would have called you a liar. You’ve never seen Tallarn.”

“No,” and something of his normal confidence was momentarily alive again, “but the desert sounds lovely.”

I closed the intervening distance between us and embraced him. “We do have lovely sunsets there. Depending on where you are. Some parts are bloody awful.”

His arms were desperate around me. “Julia. This method they’ve proposed for protecting you during the… debriefing… I…”

“Hypno-submersion. They say the basic principles were derived from one of us. From a human scientist.”

“Yes, but the risk?”

“I can’t see another way. The folks on Muskov will be sceptical of the warp travel explanation. This way, at least, I will believe my own story.”

“But there’s a chance you won’t come back.”

“A slight chance.”

“And a major chance that you will lose some of your memories.” Despite the tenor of the conversation I was touched, and reached up to stroke his face. Throne, he was tall compared to me. “Julia,” he continued, “what about General Bulkontz?”

“What about him?”

“If you do forget something, even a small detail, anything concerning him, he will pick it up eventually, and he will grow suspicious.”

“He didn’t get to know me all that well the last time I was on Muskov.”

“If he’s anything like the rest of the Bulkontz clan he’ll stay suspicious even if the hypno-submersion works.”

“You’ve never met him. He’s the idiot of the tribe.” I stood on my toes and ruffled his hair, “At least my Bulkontz has his mother’s hair. I hate baldness.”

He grabbed my hand, a little forcefully, “I am serious Julia.”

“So am I,” I snatched my wrist out of his grasp. “You can’t keep me on the side lines forever. I was a Commissar once. I am a woman of action, to steal a phrase. I want – I need to be involved.”

“Why like this?”

“You know why.” I reached out and fondled the collars of his coat. “That’s why you’ve been trying to stall it. And I appreciate the sentiment. But right now my old identity in the Imperium is still useful. I still have a chance of reappearing convincingly. Besides,” now I lay a kiss on his cheek, before remembering the eerie presence of the dead, “it’s hardly anything compared to the deceit you’re attempting. Agent Malig.”

“Don’t say that name now.” His vehemence caught me by surprise. Reluctantly, I took my hands back.

“Why?” He refused to meet my eyes.

“I am afraid… The hypno…”

“Julia,” Ivin was standing by the entrance.

When we reached the designated office, Igan was standing next to a comfortable looking couch. The scene looked like a parody of – something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Welcheren · July 10, 2016

Part 7

The suppressed memories broke through the cloying soil of the hypnosis, not in an instant, not in a flash, but in the same way you distinguish between a dream and reality upon waking up. What did return to me in a flash, was a set of reflexes honed by specialised training. My hand snaked out for my bolt pistol as the mission objectives were restored to my consciousness.

General Bulkontz’ eyes had less than a second to widen, his mouth had only a moment to draw into tight line, and before he could bring his barrel round to my head, a scorching beam from Malig’s – from David’s – laspistol burned through his temple. I smelled the unforgettable odour of charring hair and flesh, but my own eyes were now fixed on the remaining two Imperial officers. The percussion of two solid shots rebounded on the high dome of the office, succeeded by the dull thud of the Captain and the Colonel’s bodies on the carpet.

Suddenly, all noise ceased. The dust began to settle. Beams of sunlight, stabbed down in parallel lines from the narrow windows above. And for what felt to me like the first time in a long time, David and I were alone together, really together and really alone. Somehow the wreckage caused by the fight, and the eventual resumption of noises from outside the castle, seemed a fitting complement to the reunion, as the subtle nuances of more memories returned.

All around us, the walls trembled with the clamour of battle. Moving on the impulses of well-rehearsed mission parameters David reached the General’s book case, retrieved the servo skull with its little laser, and placed it on the long desk. I recognised it now as a short-range homer that would enable the special detail of Tau soldiers to locate the High Office. The recollection enabled me to understand the purpose of David’s laspistol as well.

“They’ll be here to collect the body soon,” he said unnecessarily as he crossed the room to me.

“And there will be no blood to suggest that Bulkontz has been shot. He’ll simply disappear with the Tau, either kidnapped or taken back to his masters,” I finished to show David how much of my memory had been restored.

Awkwardly he moved closer to me and stooped down to Ben, as if it was somehow still difficult to be back in my presence - really back - and slipped something into Ben’s coat pocket. I knew it was a recording of David’s orders for the defence of the Five Rivers, but with Bulkont’z voice synthetically laid over his own. If the Tau attack developed as planned, everyone who could testify that David had delivered those commands would be dead. I walked away from David and Ben until I reached the General, and replaced the bolt pistol in his rigid hands with my own.

“Excellent,” I heard David’s voice behind me, appraising the scene, and when I turned around there was finally a smile on his face again. “They will be here to evacuate us soon.” He stepped back to the space where, moments before, he had pointed his pistol at the General.

“No. Not quite.”

A frown marred his face, “What do you mean? Julia it’s… What do you mean?”

“I have to stay, David.” I strove o be as gentle as possible, having just remembered that these orders had never been shared with him, at my explicit request. “They are not here for me. Only for you. Your identity would never have lasted long. But mine is still intact.” I reached out for his coat collars again. “This is only one world David. Only one world in a long war.”

Servant of Dante · July 11, 2016

Sorry, I haven't been on the forum for a couple days. Been painting and thinking about how much painting I don't want to do and have been a little burnt out on the hobby.

Part 4

Lock ploughed through the castle’s corridors like a steam locomotive in the rural districts of this planet. The misting of his breath added further colour to the picture. Ben’s blue eyes under the bald dome of his head was unreadable - as it always was in my presence, ever since he saw Agent Malig pass the comms-bead to me. But even he released a frosty gasp of air when we opened the unguarded double doors of the High Office.

“Friends, I know this is quite likely the worst possible moment, but we have a riddle to solve.” Malig was standing on one side of the General’s desk. The General occupied the other side. Both men had their weapons trained on the other.

should it be where? There seem to be some dependencies here, syntactically (I think). Also, where's part 5?

Dang, I was really hoping that the Commissar wasn't the traitor, but as the Emperor decrees . . . *loads flamer* . . . a heretic's death it is.

Welcheren · July 12, 2016

Sorry, I haven't been on the forum for a couple days. Been painting and thinking about how much painting I don't want to do and have been a little burnt out on the hobby.

Part 4

Lock ploughed through the castle’s corridors like a steam locomotive in the rural districts of this planet. The misting of his breath added further colour to the picture. Ben’s blue eyes under the bald dome of his head was unreadable - as it always was in my presence, ever since he saw Agent Malig pass the comms-bead to me. But even he released a frosty gasp of air when we opened the unguarded double doors of the High Office.

“Friends, I know this is quite likely the worst possible moment, but we have a riddle to solve.” Malig was standing on one side of the General’s desk. The General occupied the other side. Both men had their weapons trained on the other.

should it be where? There seem to be some dependencies here, syntactically (I think). Also, where's part 5?

Dang, I was really hoping that the Commissar wasn't the traitor, but as the Emperor decrees . . . *loads flamer* . . . a heretic's death it is.

You're right. It should be were. I hate concord errors, but at least one always creep in. Will change it.

WHAT!? I can't believe I left out part 5!

Apologies all round.

That broke up the narrative trajectory and the coherence. THRONE OF TERRA!!!!!!

Anyway, here it is: