The Bloodied Rose - Danie Ware Page 3

  Jatoya said, ‘Permission to speak, milady.’

  ‘Granted.’

  ‘Is there still a ship in orbit?’

  ‘There is not,’ Ianthe said. ‘The Tukril, the ship of the Adeptus Mechanicus, and its escort, the Imperial warship Kyrus, have already returned to Mars, carrying requests for Jencir’s additional supplies. They’re not due back into Lautis’ orbit for another eighty-two days.’

  ‘And you want us to go with them.’ Augusta spoke the understanding aloud. ‘Milady.’

  Ianthe smiled at her, her expression cold.

  ‘No, Sister Superior, I do not.’ The words were final, icy. ‘The Adeptus Mechanicus cannot risk more resources on a world so bereft of either wealth or merit – not until their security is assured.’ Her tone was razor sharp. ‘Sisters, you will secure the area. And, this time, without a mistake.’

  Augusta still stared straight ahead, though she felt the Emperor’s Light above her, His gaze that saw all. The implication was clear: if something had happened to Felicity’s squad, then she, Augusta, was responsible – by accident, by omission, by inadequate information – and the standing of her entire Order had suffered because of it.

  Her squad were being sent to Lautis not because of their experience or their efficiency but to rectify that error, and to cleanse the name of the Order of the Bloody Rose.

  She felt Jatoya flick her a tiny, sideways glance, and realised that her second-in-command had understood the same thing.

  ‘Of course, milady,’ Augusta said, raising her chin. ‘This is my responsibility, and I will take it willingly upon my shoulders.’

  ‘I’m glad you see this my way, Sisters,’ Ianthe commented dryly. ‘Very well then. Muster your squad, Augusta. Report to the docking bay for Matins tomorrow morning.’ She held up the data-slate. ‘And may I suggest you take the intervening time to study Felicity’s report and the information offered by the Adeptus Mechanicus. Memorise the maps, Sisters. You will be needing them.’

  ‘Yes, milady.’ The Sisters responded together, watching the servitors with their brass trays as they whirred down towards the doorway.

  ‘Very well then,’ Ianthe said. ‘You are dismissed.’

  Both Sisters came back to attention, stamped a smart about-turn and marched back down the aisle. Above them, the floating cherubim watched them go, their cold, augmetic gazes recording every step.

  ‘Lautis?’ Sister Viola’s freckled face showed pure surprise. ‘Again?’

  The squad were gathered round a small table in the refectorium, a votive candle flickering at its centre to which to offer Grace. Augusta had called them for a briefing before they attended midday prayers and then went back to their respective classes.

  ‘Be mindful, Sister,’ Augusta told her. ‘This is not just a reconnaissance mission. The honour of our Order is in jeopardy.’

  Viola grinned. ‘But – we get to kill more greenskins?’

  Augusta checked a sigh. The squad’s best shot, and field-promoted to the use of its thrice-blessed heavy bolter, Viola had returned from Lautis with a foolhardy streak that verged on overconfidence. She had never questioned her orders, nor taken an uncalled-for initiative, but sometimes Augusta wondered if she had been entirely ready for the advancement.

  ‘Lautis is at the outermost edge of the segmentum,’ Augusta reminded her. ‘We may find bigger things than orks.’

  Viola’s hand strayed to her hip, and found her empty holster. Unlike the bolters of her Sisters, her own weapon was too bulky – and too sacred – to be casually carried. She rattled her fingertips in annoyance.

  Caia and Melia, one pale and with hair like bronze, the other dusky-skinned and dark-eyed, exchanged a glance. As close as blood-kin, they had come up through the schola together and had fought under Augusta’s command for almost as long as Jatoya.

  ‘May I say something, Sister?’ The squad’s newest member, Sister Akemi, still spoke with a slight hesitation, her novitiate habits hard to leave behind.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ve spent many years studying.’ Her eyes darted from face to face with a faint nervousness. ‘And I know that Lautis has little resource. Explorations onto its moon have found promethium deposits, but nothing worth the expense of mining. As a world, it has little or no value–’

  ‘It has the kynx and lho-leaf that brought the orks in the first place,’ Melia commented. Caia chuckled.

  Augusta was not amused. ‘All the more reason to be wary,’ she said. ‘If something does dwell upon Lautis – and that something has faced or defeated Felicity Albani – then we will need to be on our guard.’ Her gaze travelled sternly round her squad.

  ‘My apologies, Sister Superior,’ Melia said. ‘I fear this rest-interval has made me cranky.’

  ‘That will be rectified soon enough,’ Augusta told her, with a hint of amusement. She pushed back her chair with a loud scrape and stood up. ‘Pre-dawn muster, Sisters, at Matins, at the landing pad. And in full wargear. I will speak to the quartermaster and requisition our off-world equipment.’ She glanced up at the refectory window. ‘May we walk with the Emperor and carry His light into the very darkest reaches of the galaxy.’

  Chapter Three

  The shuttle’s cargo bay was cold.

  Strapped into her seat, her back to the cold metal wall, Augusta cast an eye over their requisitioned gear – Phaeton-pattern reinforcement kits, field generators, new vox-antennae, everything they would need to secure the basecamp.

  They were thirty-seven days out of Ophelia VII, and this trip down to Lautis’ surface was the very last leg of the journey.

  She spoke into the internal vox. ‘Shipmaster, how long?’

  The commander of the Imperial vessel Sorex, now in parked orbit about the planet, had insisted upon piloting the shuttle personally – perhaps to ensure that the Sisters were delivered safely, and that he’d discharged his responsibility without mishap.

  His voice came back to them. ‘Two minutes ‘til we drop below the cloudline, Sister. Twenty-three to the landing point.’ The shuttle’s interior screen showed a continuous, passing rush of grey, soupy cloud. ‘Current data shows climate conditions at sixty-eight per cent humidity, atmospheric temperature at twenty-nine-point-five degrees. It’s a swamp down there.’

  Caia muttered, ‘We know.’

  ‘Any communications?’ Augusta said.

  ‘We’re just getting static. Full surface scan commencing as soon as we hit optimum range.’

  Jatoya asked, ‘Signs of hostility?’

  ‘Nothing that doesn’t belong,’ the shipmaster said. ‘Life signs are minimal and all fully indigenous. Just the local predators, Sisters, nothing you’re not expecting.’

  The screen showed more clouds.

  ‘How long before we’re in visual range of the town?’ Augusta asked.

  ‘Fourteen minutes,’ he said. ‘Will keep you updated.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Viola, her heavy bolter now rested across her lap, voiced a curse. ‘I’ll be glad when we’re off this blood boat.’

  ‘Blood boat?’ Akemi asked her, puzzled. ‘What is a blood boat?’ The newest Sister had a little fetish that she toyed with constantly, a tiny, silver feather that she flicked endlessly between the fingers of her left hand.

  ‘Old Imperial slang,’ Augusta said. ‘It means a cargo ship that travels a very long way, usually to secure grox-meat or similar.’

  Frowning, her small, pallid face ever-serious, Akemi nodded. Augusta could see her twisting the little feather and filing the information away, every last detail where it belonged. Akemi had a remarkable memory; she had almost taken her Oath to the Convent’s Order Dialogous, the Order of the Quill. Now, fielded for the first time as a sworn soldier and a member of the Bloody Rose, her tension was becoming apparent.

  Yet Augusta had no doubts about th
e young woman’s readiness. The Sister Superior had spent the five weeks of their interstellar journey running her squad through endless pattern-drills and live-fire training manoeuvres. They’d jogged round the gantries, morning and night, in full wargear; they’d practised skirmish exercises until they knew and could anticipate each other’s reactions. And they’d observed their rituals of daily prayer – Matins, Lauds, Vespers, Compline – in the Sorex’s tiny chapel.

  The screen showed a brief flash of Lautis’ bloated, orangish sun, and Akemi’s little fetish glinted in the light.

  As if suddenly aware of her habit, she slipped it back into the cuff of her vambrace, then leaned back against the wall. Augusta could see her lips moving as she prayed.

  Throughout their journey, the Navy crew had stayed well away from the Sisters – too intimidated or awed by their presence, or by the legends that accompanied them. Sometimes, greatly daring, they’d watched from the farthest walkways, and once, goaded by mocking colleagues, a young officer had called a lewd remark at Akemi’s armoured back. The shipmaster had slung the man in the brig and had reminded the crew that the Sisters were servants of the God-Emperor, and soldiers like themselves. They were not saints to be iconised – the thought was outright blasphemy – nor objects to be ogled.

  Once the young man had been released, Sister Akemi had spoken to him face-to-face. Augusta didn’t know what she had said, but the man had left with his skin ashen and his knees shaking.

  And so, Augusta had thought, do the legends perpetuate themselves.

  But still, it had allayed any flickering doubt: Akemi had courage. The Emperor had called her to be a warrior, and a warrior she would be.

  ‘Reaching optimum range now, Sisters,’ said the shipmaster. ‘Scan of township commencing.’

  The clouds had thinned to wisps and were parting completely as the shuttle dropped below their cover. The screen began to show a dull, greenish atmosphere, heavy with rising steam and trapped heat. Augusta studied it carefully, remembering an identical scan from their initial reconnaissance trip, now almost a Solar year before.

  Her hand touched the fleur-de-lys on her breastplate.

  ‘Lautis.’ Caia, sat next to her, gave a faint groan. ‘Not somewhere I ever needed to see a second time.’

  Melia said, ‘At least we know what to expect.’

  ‘Do we?’ Caia answered her. Always the sharpest of the squad, Sister Caia missed little. ‘Do we really?’

  Her words were met with silence as their import sank home.

  The shuttle slowed, descending further, and the passing seethe of jungle became more visible. There were the familiar festoons of creepers, and the marshy deceits of the underlying swamp. There was the dark, volcanic rock, jagged and pitted with holes. There was the rising outcry of the indigenous wildlife, the loud and colourful birds and the lurking monsters of the stagnant water.

  Eyeing the waiting mire, Augusta’s belly tightened with the descent. Like Caia, she had not expected to come back here.

  The area was secure, she reminded herself. We slew the warlord. We hunted down the scattered remnants of its tribe. We offered the town our protection.

  She wanted to try her vox, to try to reach Felicity on the Order’s private channel, but she was still out of range. Data flickered across the bottom of the pict-screen, showing the angle of the planet’s rotation, its climate and weather systems, its twenty-two hour day. She reminded herself of the information as she studied the passing rush of the native flora, and searched for the particular pattern that marked the town itself – the habitation closest to the ruined cathedral.

  ‘Threat level green,’ the shipmaster said. ‘You’re in the clear. Requested landmark becoming visible in three… two… one…’ There was a faint note of relief in his voice as he said, ‘And there we are, right on schedule. Final approach now. Praise the God-Emperor, Sisters, we’re safe and sound.’

  Augusta undid her straps and stood up, her back stiff. With one hand on the shuttle’s roof to steady herself, she came forwards to scrutinise the screen.

  And there it was: the looming, crumbling mass of the cathedral’s ruin, and, slightly closer, the square, black shape that was the town’s ancient ziggurat, its icon, temple and government. Around it spread the familiar mosaic of dark, stone buildings and odd, right-angled roads. To one side, there was the brief, rippling flash of moving water.

  Her belly lurched again as the shuttle slowed further.

  That was the same town, the one they’d saved, the place for which Sister Kimura had given her life. They’d given Kimura her Last Rites in the ruined cathedral, but the townspeople had celebrated her memory and their own gratitude. They’d raised firebrands to the Emperor’s name, singing hymns of local tradition.

  Carved into the stepped sides of the great ziggurat, Augusta remembered, there were armoured warriors, their features blunted, their weapons and armour stylised, but recognisable – symbols left over from the Great Crusade. Lautis was older than the Order, older than the Sisters themselves. And yet the town’s priest – she remembered the woman clearly – had understood the Sisters’ faith and their love for their Emperor. She had pointed at the ziggurat’s carvings and talked about their local legends–

  ‘No life signs,’ the shipmaster said.

  What?

  The comment stopped Augusta dead. Uncomprehending, she studied the screen. Though they were still too far away, she found herself searching for movement, for some way to deny the man’s words.

  Behind her, her squad were suddenly tense. Viola’s hands tightened on the heavy bolter; Akemi’s fetish was back in her fingers, turning over and over. Surprise and concern shot from Sister to Sister along the inside of the cargo bay.

  Augusta said, her tone grim, ‘Scan again.’

  ‘Aye.’ Side-rockets fired. The floor tilted as the vessel turned, and Augusta caught at a rivet-studded upright to keep her feet. After a moment, the shipmaster said, ‘Scan radius expanding. Two miles from grid one-niner-seven by three-forty-five.’ There was a longer pause, and he repeated, ‘No life signs, Sister. Nothing. Not even the predators.’

  ‘But…’ Viola sounded as shocked as Augusta felt, ‘…there’s a whole town down there.’

  Felicity’s final report had said nothing about the town being threatened, nor about any incoming force or foe.

  Augusta said, ‘That township’s home to over three thousand people.’

  ‘Sister.’ The shipmaster’s voice held respect, and complete certainty. ‘There’s no one down there.’

  ‘Can you get a signal?’

  The others were standing up now, checking weapons and wargear. The first flickerings of combat-readiness were stealing through the inside of the shuttle.

  ‘No communications, Sister,’ he returned, his tone even. ‘Even this close, there’s no response from the basecamp. Will keep trying.’

  ‘Rotate frequencies,’ Augusta said. ‘Try every Imperial channel.’

  ‘Trying all Imperial and all known Mechanicus frequencies, Sister. There’s no response.’

  Akemi dropped her fetish and leaned over to pick it up. In the faint, green light, her small face was etched with worry. Viola’s fingers traced the carvings and the purity seals on the Godwyn-pattern heavy bolter.

  Aware of their tension, Augusta still watched the screen. The absence of the townspeople was a significant shift in their mission parameters – and removed almost all possibility that Felicity’s silence had been caused by some errant storm.

  It also meant that the townspeople could offer them neither information nor supplies.

  The Arvus was slowing still further now, dropping below the canopy; it smashed through the jungle, dense and green. Brackish, noxious waters reflected the vehicle’s belly-lights, and the pitted, dark stone of the town’s outer walls grew closer.

  Akemi’s gaze flicked back
and forth, reading the scrolling data. Melia’s hand touched her fleur-de-lys, while Caia fiddled with the sight on her bolter, clicking and unclicking it, again and again.

  In the metal walls of the shuttle, the noise was oddly loud.

  The shipmaster’s voice said, ‘Do you wish to return to the Sorex, Sisters?’

  ‘We do not,’ Augusta said. ‘Our mission is very clear. Take us to the landing point, shipmaster, and drop the hatch. Once our gear is unloaded, I want you out of here. Upon your return to the Sorex, please upload what we have found so far. We do not know what waits for us, but I wish the canoness to be aware of the situation.’

  She didn’t need to add: In case we cannot make that communication ourselves.

  ‘Yes, Sister,’ the shipmaster said. ‘Landing point ETA, two minutes.’

  The screen became murkier as the vessel passed into the treeline. The cargo bay seemed suddenly very dark.

  Caia’s clicking stopped.

  In the faint, greenish light, Augusta looked at her squad.

  ‘Very well.’ She was alert now, her mind sharp and working – they were in the field, and this was no time for doubt or hesitation. ‘Listen to me. When that hatch comes down, Viola, out and on point. Caia, Melia, you’ll take back up. Jatoya, Akemi, with me – we’ll need to unload our gear and let this shuttle get back into the air. It’s vulnerable, and I need it safely away.’

  ‘Yes, Sister.’

  ‘And once we’re down, our first priority is to secure the basecamp. Jatoya, take Viola, Caia and Melia. Do a full sweep and establish the perimeter. Akemi, with me – I’ll need you to access the camp’s records.’ She glanced at the young woman, her black hair shining. ‘You read machine dialect, yes?’

  ‘A little, Sister Superior,’ Akemi said. ‘My training was very basic.’

  ‘Good enough. See if you can get into Jencir’s records as well as Felicity’s.’ Augusta’s smile was grim, humourless. ‘You never know what you might find.’