Armageddon Saint - Gav Thorpe Page 2

  ‘You should have had your friends kill me when you had the chance.’ The Colonel steadies himself as I back away. I feel a lightness at my left hip an instant before I see my combat knife in his hand.

  ‘You sly fragger.’

  No sudden onslaught this time. The Colonel edges forward, blade held ready. He knows I’m good with a knife. Really good. And that means I’m good at dealing with someone else with a knife. First rule of the knife fighter: don’t bring a weapon if the enemy can take it off you.

  ‘You betrayed me. You left us to die.’ It’s the first time he’s shown any real emotion, his frown deep.

  ‘I never betrayed you.’ I step back and my calves touch the other bench. ‘I finished the mission. You would have done the same. That’s what being a Last Chancer is about! Finish the mission, even if nobody gets out alive.’

  There’s a slight hesitation, but he continues on, taking another step closer. The blade tip weaves left and right, small movements to mask the moment of intent.

  ‘That’s right.’ He locks that stare on me again. ‘Finish the mission, even if it means not walking out alive.’

  My priorities are rapidly changing. There’s a laspistol in my bedroom, the door to the next chamber between me and the Colonel. I don’t take the weapon to the audiences; I don’t like the idea of bringing a gun among a bunch of people that might want to use it on me.

  I make one last bid for clemency.

  ‘I thought I would die,’ I tell the Colonel. ‘I grabbed von Strab and threw us into the furnace chasm, to kill us both.’

  ‘So why are you not dead?’

  I shrug. ‘The Emperor saved me.’

  I forget how fast he can move, even though he’s at least twenty kilos heavier than me. I have to take a cut to my forearm to deflect the knife from my eyeball. Spinning, I chop my hand into his neck, hoping to stun him.

  I don’t. He backhands me across the jaw, the whip of his hand giving the instinctive blow terrible force. It knocks me onto the bench, where I sprawl, head banging on the wood.

  My vision fuzzes as he looms over me.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He stops, confused by my words.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Thank you,’ I tell him, sitting up. I tilt my head back, submitting my throat to the knife edge. ‘For saving my soul. I will die purified.’

  Schaeffer leans over me, the blade descending towards the artery in the side of my neck.

  ‘I came here to kill a traitor,’ he growls. It seems like his words aren’t for me.

  I lower my head, meeting his stare. My words come slow and honest.

  ‘I am not a traitor.’

  I can feel the tension in his body, expecting me to counter-attack, to seize the knife. I take in a ragged breath, hardly daring to let it out again. The wrong move and my blood becomes decor.

  ‘I didn’t have you killed because why would I want you dead?’

  ‘There are a lot of reasons,’ the Colonel replies. ‘You listed them. Ichar IV. Coritanorum. Brightsword. Acheron.’

  ‘And I understand why that happened. I know the Emperor guided me here. And I gave myself to Him, and I have been redeemed for my doubts and sins.’

  The knife trembles just a fraction. I still don’t dare move.

  ‘This doesn’t have to be the end of it,’ I tell him, the words coming without thought. But it’s not desperation, it’s not the base clinging to life that drove me for so much of my life. It’s truth, uncensored, spilling from my thoughts to my lips. ‘Sooner or later you open that door and get killed by the people outside. This is a bad place to die for no good reason. There’s something happening, something big, I can feel it. Better to live and fight it.’

  The Colonel stares at me for what feels like an age, seeking deception that isn’t there. I say nothing else. Eventually he steps back. I notice that he doesn’t offer me the knife.

  ‘It’s getting dangerous down here,’ I tell him. ‘It’s going to explode soon and I’d be better off somewhere else.’

  ‘Your people are not going to let me simply walk away from here. Or you.’

  ‘I know.’

  The Colonel not trying to kill me is an immediate improvement on the situation, but it doesn’t solve any of the bigger issues.

  ‘I have a bolthole,’ I tell him, tilting my head towards the adjoining chambers. ‘Fake vent cover, out into the tunnels that run under the sumpways.’

  ‘That will not help the men and women who came with me.’

  ‘No.’ I flop down onto the bench, wracking my brains.

  ‘We need to isolate the objective and then determine the best direction from that,’ says the Colonel. ‘Like any other mission.’

  I nod and extend a hand, inviting him to continue.

  ‘Your followers harbour significant anti-Imperial sentiment.’

  ‘No, that’s not it. They’re just protective of their territory.’ I stand up, moving to the door to the next room. I can see two bottles on an upturned crate. One’s water, the other is a strong spirit we call Flamer Fuel. I step inside and pick up the water. ‘They’re also protective of me. Maybe a bit too attached, really. They’re good people… but desperate. Needy.’

  I take a swig of water and offer the bottle. The Colonel hesitates and then takes it off me, swilling the liquid around his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.

  ‘The Burned Man. It is a story, nothing more. A lie to impress the simple-minded,’ he continued.

  ‘No lie.’ He passes back the water and I stopper the bottle to put it on the bench. As I keep talking, I right the upturned table. ‘They know who I am, what I did, where I came from.’

  ‘And how the Emperor saved you?’ Schaeffer shakes his head. ‘The rumours that I heard told of a man who plunged into the fires and emerged with angel wings, alight with golden flame. Admit it, it is a convenient myth. At least, convenient until you need to leave your miscreant followers behind. You were never good at taking responsibility, Kage.’

  ‘It’s what happened,’ I insist. ‘I couldn’t say for sure about the wings, but other than that, I fell into the flames and they burned me.’ I take a step closer and he stiffens. The tip of my finger traces the molten swirl down the side of my face. ‘I burned but I lived. The… thing that was inside of me. The thing that made me betray you, that killed Lorii… It was a force from the abyss, a messenger of the darkness. But the Emperor purged it from my thoughts and rescued me. Redeemed me!’

  Schaeffer says nothing as he scrutinises me again. With a sigh, he steps past me and takes the water bottle. He opens it and lifts the rim to his lips with his eyes still on me.

  ‘Why?’ he growls.

  ‘Why did the Emperor save me?’

  He nods.

  ‘The same reason He saved me a hundred times before, I suppose. Every bullet that missed. Ducking just a moment before that spore mine exploded on Ichar IV. Giving me the strength to break the god-plant’s mind control on False Hope, to resist xenos hypnotism in Coritan­orum. How many times has He saved you, Colonel?’

  He opens his mouth, to argue I’m sure, but then closes it without saying anything. I can guess his thoughts, because I’ve had the same ones.

  ‘Just chance, right?’ I say. ‘The bullet’s gotta find someone, only the survivors can claim they were blessed, the dead got nothing to say. Luck? Coincidence? But then you have to ask yourself, if it’s all just good and bad fortune, what’s all this business about our souls being saved by the Emperor? Either the God-Emperor is watching, and maybe taking a hand, or He isn’t… Like that mad, broken preacher Gappo used to say. What if He wasn’t listening when you pray? Or Kronin, poor bast­ard. Talking only in verses from the Litanies of Faith. Should’ve been dead in a chapel, gutted by a tyranid. Maybe he saw something he could never explain. Felt something… immortal? Inhu
man?’

  ‘Are you saying that is what you felt? The touch of the Emperor upon you?’ For once, there’s no disdain in the Colonel’s question.

  ‘I truly did. The flames licked at my skin and I felt a power inside me, lifting me from their embrace. In the flames I saw the face of the Emperor, in their roar I heard…’ I’ve told this story a hundred times, it gets a bit more flowery with each retelling, but as the Colonel stares at me without reaction the poetry slips away. I strip it back to the basics. ‘There was a weight, a pressure in my head, like when the abyssal mess­enger was controlling my thoughts.’

  Tears start to roll down my cheek as I remember it, harsher than before. There’s something about the Colonel standing there, listening, like maybe he’s sharing it too. I remember how he’s nearly died Emperor only knows how many times. And he’s been put back together, stitched up, worked on by the Martian tech-priests. He just listens, intent, no questions.

  ‘There was fire on me, and I fell into one of the underhive tunnels broken by the chasm. But as I lay there, I felt the metal under my fingers and I dug my nails into it and I clung to it like I was going to slip back into the flames. I remember praying. Thanking the Emperor for giving me my last chance. And you. I asked the Emperor to protect you. It hurt. Hurt so fraggin’ much I thought I was gonna die anyway. Not the fire, but the knives inside my head. I pushed into the pain, brought it close, and then tried to bury it, calling on the Emperor again and again. Then it was gone, leaving me. It felt like a gentle breeze through my soul.’

  When I’m done, I stand there shaking, staring at his face for some sign of what he’s thinking. He looks me up and down, slowly, gauging every bit of me.

  ‘And that is why your followers will not be happy for you to leave. They see you as a connection to the Emperor. Their prophet, their guide.’

  ‘I don’t say any of that stuff, though some of them say it for me.’

  ‘You do not deny their claims.’

  ‘They can believe what they want. If I start arguing, all of this comes tumbling down, and me with it.’

  ‘Which brings us back to the question of how you will extricate yourself from your followers.’

  ‘Do I need to?’

  The question surprises him and the Colonel rubs a knuckle along the side of his nose, thinking for a few seconds.

  ‘What are you proposing?’

  ‘We all get out of here, out of Acheron.’

  ‘You are a deserter. You have others in your ranks that abandoned their posts. Why would they return to the Imperial Guard?’

  ‘I’m sure you can handle that side of things. If you have a mission, that makes us the new 13th Legion. That’s not the biggest problem. I’d be happy to deal with that if we can get to the Imperial lines. No, it’s the thousands of orks between us and there that’ll be the hardest thing.’

  ‘You have been fighting the orks since our parting, what makes this so different?’

  ‘There’s fighting to keep some territory, maybe some raids, keep the power balance. And then there’s leading fifteen hundred men, women and children out through ork-held underhive.’

  ‘Children?’

  ‘There are families down here, came to the Burned Man looking for protection.’

  ‘You really love playing the saviour, Kage.’

  ‘Nobody’s playing,’ I tell him with a grimace. Then my mood improves as an idea settles. ‘But the holy saviour story would probably convince them to come with us. I spin a yarn about you coming to take us out for some Emperor-blessed war effort, that we’ve all been called upon by the Power of Terra.’

  The Colonel growls. ‘I am not going to concede that you have been blessed by the Emperor.’

  ‘You’re so stubborn!’ I pace back and forth a few times, hands clenching and relaxing. ‘I’m telling the truth! And even if you don’t believe me, what’s the problem? Do you want to get out of here or not?’

  ‘Compromise is the crack in the wall of sanctity. Principles are not stubbornness.’

  ‘You sound like a walking Thought for the Day,’ I snarl.

  ‘I have other concerns. About you. Your recent past.’ Schaeffer folds his arms. ‘You have always been self-serving but your actions during the von Strab mission go beyond self-preservation. I cannot trust you.’

  ‘You’ve never trusted me.’

  ‘I have always relied upon you to do the best for your own survival. What occurred in the court of von Strab, the way you turned on us, was beyond survival. It was vindictive and homicidal.’

  ‘And it wasn’t me!’ I kick the table leg in frustration. ‘I told you that! There was a spirit of the abyss within me, pushing me down inside my own thoughts.’

  ‘Which you claim to have single-handedly purged.’

  ‘Not single-handed.’ I sigh and shake my head. ‘It was the Emperor. The breath of the God-Emperor passed through me.’

  ‘I brought Oahebs for a reason.’ The Colonel turns his shoulders slightly, his posture directing my attention to the door. He tilts his head a little, eyes unwavering. ‘Do you want to be sure that all of the dark messenger has gone?’

  I’m about to spit out another angry reply but stop myself. The Lit­anies of Faith are full of martyrs that died for the Imperial Creed. A bit of doubt from the Colonel isn’t all that great an obstacle.

  ‘All right, we’ll do it your way,’ I tell him, moving to the lock wheel. I spin it open and push the door just wide enough to poke my head out.

  Nazrek, Karol and the others turn in surprise.

  ‘Him dead?’ growls the ork, leaning to look past me into the chamber.

  ‘I have spared him for the moment,’ I say archly, directing my words at Karol. ‘I need one of the others. Send for the one called Oahebs. Remember, they’re not to be hurt until I’ve decided what to do with them.’

  Slamming the door before they can ask awkward questions, I turn the wheel back into the locked position and let out a long breath.

  ‘The benefits of blind obedience,’ says the Colonel. ‘But it is hollow without respect for you. It’s based only on the power you claim to have.’

  ‘I know.’ This time I head for the Flamer Fuel when I go into the next room. There’s a plain metal cup beside the bottle and I half fill it. I stop, hand halfway to my mouth. ‘I know what I went through, but that doesn’t mean I’m not waiting for some ambitious spark in that lot to think maybe they’d do a better job of it.’

  I return to the bench, drink untouched.

  ‘And it’s not been going well, these last ten days or so. A lot of setbacks. I mean, really vicious fighting.’ My head starts to pulse, a throb that’s been bugging me for about the same amount of time. I down a mouthful of Flamer Fuel, letting the sensation of burning tongue and throat distract me from the ache inside my thoughts. ‘Perhaps it’s the Emperor telling me it’s time to move on. Maybe an omen of you coming here.’

  The Colonel looks thoughtful for a few seconds, looking away. When his eyes return to me there’s a peculiar quality to his gaze, like uncertainty.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask. At first he doesn’t look like he’s going to answer, but then relents, unfolding his arms, fists still clenched.

  ‘There have been bad auguries from the astropaths for the last sixty or seventy days. Navigation in and out of the Armageddon System has been getting more difficult. Wild talk about the Astronomican dimming. Being clouded.’

  ‘Like the Shadow in the Warp?’ I suggest.

  ‘Not the tyranids,’ says the Colonel.

  ‘The orks, then. Nazrek talks about it. The “big green”. A sort of orkiness they all share, gets stronger the more of them there are around.’

  ‘Not orks,’ Schaeffer says heavily. ‘I think your abyssal stowaway, the one you say you have expunged, was a precursor of something else. The warp is stirring in strange ways
.’

  ‘I’ve been doing this long enough to know that means a prize opportunity to do something insanely suicidal for the Emperor.’

  ‘You are mistaken. I have no mission, Kage.’ He says it almost apologetically. It’s then that I realise he’s not just talking about the big events, but the words are more personal.

  ‘That’s why you came after me! Getting bored, were you? I hear stuff. The lines have been drawn on the map for a good while now. Imperial forces dug in out there, the orks mostly happy to stay in here. You got stuck sitting in a trench with frag-all to do, didn’t you?’

  I laugh at Schaeffer’s glare of annoyance.

  ‘What justification did you come up with?’ I neck the remaining alcohol, burning away the last of my reservations. ‘Did the Burned Man pose a threat somehow?’

  ‘I came to kill a traitor,’ the Colonel growls, stifling my humour. ‘That was reason enough.’

  Two

  A CHANGE OF PLANS

  A clang on the door announces the arrival of Oahebs, cutting off any further conversation. I wrench the door open.

  ‘That took long enough,’ I bark. Karste is on the other side, no sign of Karol, Nazrek or the others. She has a panicked look that immediately sets my heart racing. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Orks, coming down through the Waste Scrub,’ she gushes, moving from one foot to the other, causing her upright crest of hair to sway like a bird’s feathers. An uphiver by birth, Karste fled down here when the orks invaded. She’d always been a bit skittish, but was loyal.

  ‘Why? Why’d they be coming downhive?’

  She shrugs, agitation growing.

  ‘Sasski-Ran says there’re a lot of them. A lot.’

  My brain finally starts paying attention to the background noise. Shouts echoing from the sump hall; the thud of dozens of feet moving, clanging down steps; the creak of metal as the gantries shake under the movement of the crowd. I see the fear in Karste’s eyes and imagine it multiplied a hundredfold by my followers in the sump hall. I dash back to the other room, snatch up my laspistol and then head out of the door.