Salvation's Reach

  ‘Well, it’s our dump,’ said Bandmaster Yerolemew. moving through the rows. He tapped an empty bunk with his baton.

  ‘Who’s not here?’

  ‘Pol Cohran, sergeant major,’ said Gorus.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Acceleration sickness, sergeant major,’ said Perday.

  ‘Cohran doesn’t get acceleration sickness,’ said Yerolemew.

  ‘He does this time,’ said Erish.

  ‘White as an undershirt,’ muttered Gorus.

  ‘Not one of your undershirts,’ said Perday.

  ‘Settle down,’ said the bandmaster.

  ‘Maybe the bandsman needs to see a medicae?’ asked Commissar Blenner. He’d been watching from the end of a bunk row.

  ‘Didn’t see you there, sir!’ snapped Yerolemew, straightening fast. The others began to move.

  ‘Please don’t,’ said Blenner, coming forwards. He took off his cap. It always took the sting out, he thought, when the cap came off. ‘This isn’t an official inspection. I just came to greet you, make sure you were stowed.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, sir,’ said Yerolemew.

  ‘I can afford to be kind now, sergeant,’ said Blenner. ‘You can pay me back later by behaving yourselves.’

  He crooked an eyebrow to the crowd and got a little chuckle.

  ‘You’ll find I’m a pretty fair sort, generally. Come to me in good faith and I’ll always hear you out. Thank your lucky stars my name’s not Hark.’

  More laughter, and it was genuine.

  ‘Anything to report so far? The facilities suiting your needs?’

  ‘Pardon me, sir,’ said Perday, ‘but there’s precious little room to store our instruments.’

  ‘No, there isn’t, is there?’ said Blenner glancing around. ‘Gaunt said something about storing them… where was it now? Airgate sixty.’

  Still more laughter, some of it outraged.

  ‘I know, I know!’ said Blenner. ‘No respect, is there? No respect for the simple, pure, uplifting decency that is a colours band. Am I right?’

  It seemed he was.

  ‘I tell you what we’re going to do,’ he said. ‘This mission, it’s pretty vital. It’s dangerous too, I won’t lie. But what we’re going to do is spend the time proving that a marching unit is indispensable to the regiment. Indispensable! As soldiers and as musicians, you’re going to prove your worth.’

  That got a big cheer.

  ‘Fury of Belladon!’ Blenner tossed in for good measure, and circled his raised hand like a potentate on a balcony taking a march-past.

  As they began to settle again, he turned to the sergeant major.

  ‘I was looking for your commanding officer,’ said Blenner.

  ‘I can show you to his quarters,’ Yerolemew replied. ‘I was just settling the company.’

  ‘You carry on, sergeant major,’ said Blenner. ‘I’m sure somebody else can show me. That young girl, for example. She seems very accommodating.’

  ‘Perday?’ called Yerolemew.

  ‘Sir, yes, sir!’

  ‘Kindly show Commissar Blenner through to Captain Wilder’s quarters.’

  Perday jumped up.

  ‘This way, sir,’ she said.

  She led him off the bustling berthing deck and onto a rather more gloomy corridor where the officers had been given cabins. The deck was a mesh. Below, there was a maintenance trench and a sluice.

  ‘What’s your name, trooper?’ asked Blenner.

  ‘Ree Perday, sir.’

  ‘Ree. Ree. And what’s that short for?’

  ‘Uhm, Ree, sir.’

  ‘I see,’ said Blenner. Not one to be deflected, he pressed on. ‘And where are you from, Ree Perday?’

  ‘Belladon, sir.’

  ‘Yes, silly of me to ask.’

  In the shadow of a maintenance hatch in the trench below, the thing with Pol Cohran’s face watched them pass overhead. He had hidden so he could relax the tension in his face again. Bones clacked as cranial kinesis reasserted Cohran’s visage.

  ‘What was that?’ asked Blenner.

  ‘I didn’t hear anything, sir,’ said Perday.

  ‘I hope it wasn’t rats,’ said Blenner. ‘I do hate rats.’

  ‘Oh, yes, sir.’

  ‘Especially when you spot them leaving the ship first.’

  Perday laughed, and knocked on a cabin door. It was open.

  ‘Sir? Captain?’ she called. She peered inside.

  ‘Oh, Throne,’ he heard her say.

  Blenner pushed past her. The cabin was small and unfriendly. Wilder was sprawled on the deck. He’d been sick at least once. The smell of amasec was pungent.

  Blenner rolled him over. He was bonelessly limp, but he was still breathing. There were fumes coming off him you could have lit with a lucifer.

  ‘Oh, you bloody idiot,’ Blenner muttered.

  ‘What do we do, sir?’ asked Perday.

  ‘Go get a mop, Perday, and a pail of water,’ said Blenner. ‘Don’t tell anybody why. When you come back, watch the door and don’t let anybody in.’

  She looked at him, helpless and anxious.

  ‘Go on.’

  She hurried out.

  Blenner sighed, and then hoisted Wilder up and carried him over to the bunk. He groaned in his stupor.

  ‘I could just shoot you for this, you realise that?’ said Blenner.

  Wilder opened his eyes, but there wasn’t much of anything in there.

  ‘You’re a bloody fool,’ said Blenner. ‘I gave you a chance tonight, and you’ve already screwed it up. There’s going to come a point when I can’t help you any more, do you understand?’

  Wilder closed his eyes.

  ‘Can’t and won’t,’ said Blenner.

  Perday reappeared.

  ‘Where’s the mop, girl?’ Blenner asked.

  ‘Sir, I was just looking for one, sir, but I thought you should know. Company inspection, sir. Company inspection right now.’

  ‘Throne, Wilder, you’ll be the death of me,’ said Blenner. He got up.

  ‘Perday, use the jug of water there, and get a spare shirt or vest out of his holdall. Try to mop up this mess. Quickly, now.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Blenner put his cap on and went to the cabin door. Baskevyl, Sloman and Edur had just appeared at the end of the corridor; walking, talking.

  ‘Blenner,’ said Edur. ‘I was going to invite you to join us, but I couldn’t find you.’

  ‘I was already inspecting,’ Blenner said. He pulled the cabin door shut behind him, so they couldn’t see in past him.

  ‘Inspecting?’ asked Edur.

  ‘More a meet and greet. I didn’t know a surprise formal was due?’

  ‘Standard Belladon practice to spring a surprise on a new intake during the first thirty-six hours,’ said Baskevyl.

  ‘Perhaps you should familiarise me with some standard Belladon practice,’ said Blenner. ‘Seeing as the Belladon are my special responsibility.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Baskevyl. ‘I didn’t mean to cut you out of the process. I should have consulted you.’

  ‘No harm done.’

  ‘Would you like to walk in with us now? Maybe Captain Wilder too?’

  Blenner pulled a face. He dropped his voice and leaned in close.

  ‘There’s a slight problem,’ he said. ‘The captain’s been struck down with a nasty bout of acceleration sickness.’

  ‘Really?’ said Baskevyl.

  ‘Nasty.’ Blenner nodded. ‘It’s widespread, actually. More than one bandsman has got it. I’ll be sending for a medicae to give everyone a check. The thing is, Wilder could join us, but he looks like death warmed over, and frankly I don’t want him losing face by seeming weak in front of the men.’

  ‘Quite right,’ said Sloman.

  ‘Here’s an idea,’ said Blenner, his voice still low. ‘Why don’t we do this inspection once I’ve had everybody checked? Give them a fighting chance to turn out properly on a f
irst show. I mean, come on, between us, they’re not going to get a fighting chance to do anything much more impressive, are they?’

  Sloman laughed. Baskevyl tried not to.

  ‘That’s good policy, I think,’ said Edur solemnly. ‘This time tomorrow, maybe?’

  They went back the way they’d come.

  Blenner stepped into the cabin. He breathed deeply, and quickly necked one of Dorden’s pills. Perday had done a good job of washing the deck. She was bagging the shirt she’d used for laundry.

  ‘You’re a kind man, sir,’ she said. ‘You said you were fair and you clearly mean it. Others would have hung the captain out for this.’

  ‘Don’t tell me that,’ said Blenner. He pointed at Wilder. ‘Tell him that when he wakes up tomorrow morning.’

  ‘The shipmaster seems reliable?’ asked Lord Militant Cybon. ‘This Spika? He was the Navy’s choice.’

  ‘He seemed agreeable enough,’ said Gaunt. ‘Sanguine.’

  Cybon nodded.

  ‘Amasec?’

  ‘I’ll take a small one, sir.’

  Cybon’s staterooms were some of the most comfortable passenger apartments on the Armaduke. Gaunt believed a senior helm officer had been rehoused to accommodate the lord militant for the voyage. Gaunt had opted for a standard officer’s quarters of the lower deck beside the other Tanith seniors.

  ‘Should I have seen him? He knows I’m aboard,’ said Cybon as his aide marched off to get some amasec. The lord militant eased his augmetic frame down into a reclining flight throne. The chamber’s desk was alive with hololithic displays. Cybon liked his information fresh and frequently renewed.

  ‘I think I made the right noises,’ said Gaunt, taking the small amasec that the aide offered him. The glass was from the lord militant’s own travelling case. There was a small rook crest etched on the crystal.

  ‘He knows you’re aboard, but it’s not general news,’ Gaunt went on. ‘And you’ll be leaving us when we rendezvous with the fleet at Tavis Sun. So Spika needs to get used to me being the voice of authority.’

  Cybon nodded and sipped his amasec pensively.

  ‘You took a Space Marine with you?’

  ‘Eadwine. Of the Silver Guard.’

  ‘Sensible. That’ll put the wind up him at least.’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘Times are changing, Gaunt,’ said Cybon. His augmetic voice was a soft rumble.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘It’s been a long time since Balhaut. Moods change. Fortunes shift. People go in and out of favour.’

  ‘This has always been my experience, sir,’ Gaunt said. ‘Were you saying this in relation to anything particular?’

  Cybon shrugged. Augmetics hissed. He steepled his fingers around his glass, gazing at it. ‘You and I were ascendant at the same time, Gaunt. Before Balhaut. Under Slaydo. It was a good time for us. We were connected.’

  ‘We were. I don’t feel I’ve been unfairly treated since.’

  ‘I don’t feel you have either,’ said Cybon. ‘You made your bed. You looked at the opportunities, and you decided to stay in the field. You’ve made the best of that choice. Throne knows, some part of me wishes I’d made similar choices at certain points in my career.’

  ‘Your career and command are enviable, sir. And it’s far from over.’

  Cybon nodded.

  ‘If this mission goes well, Gaunt, it could mean a lot. It could mean a lot for the cause, but also for you, and for everyone who supported the effort.’

  ‘Which would include the Warmaster.’

  ‘Naturally. But I doubt he’s paid close attention to this one. Do you know how many missions he is required to scrutinise and approve every day? Across the sector? Come on. This is one raid, part of a sequence, in a corner of the Sabbat Worlds not seen as directly strategic. If it fails, it’s forgotten. If it succeeds…’

  ‘It could make a man’s career?’

  ‘It could make the careers of many men, Gaunt. It could alter the emphasis of operations. It could provoke a… an overhaul. A much needed overhaul.’

  ‘I see.’

  Cybon wiped his lips with the back of his finger.

  ‘I will remember you for this, Gaunt. I will credit you where credit is needed. I hope you will do the same.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Cybon looked at Gaunt. ‘It’s already begun, you know?’ he said.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Four weeks ago, unadjusted, the first attack. There have been seven more since. In the space of these six months, sidereal, twenty-eight raids will take place at selected locations across the trailing portions of the Sabbat Worlds. All of them will work according to the philosophy cooked up by you and Mercure. The tactics. The clues left. The information broadcast. Some of those transmissions are very authentic.’

  ‘They’re as authentic as we could make them,’ said Gaunt.

  ‘Twenty-eight raids,’ said Cybon. ‘It’s not even a massive commitment of men and materiel. Nothing so grand the Warmaster has to approve resourcing. The coordination, that’s the clever part. It’s smoke and mirrors.’

  ‘It’s mostly smoke and mirrors, sir,’ said Gaunt. ‘The effect will be very diluted if we don’t pull off this attack.’

  ‘Then that’s what you’d better do, isn’t it?’ said Cybon.

  Meritous Felyx Chass had taken a seat in the corner of Gaunt’s quarters and was reading a data-slate. He got up when Gaunt walked in. Gaunt gestured to him to sit again.

  ‘Ravenor,’ said Chass, indicating the book. ‘I’ve never been particularly taken with his work.’

  ‘Really?’ said Gaunt.

  ‘He died badly, didn’t he?’

  Gaunt shrugged. ‘What matters is what he did first,’ he said. He sat down at his desk. Maddalena Darebeloved was a silent presence in the far corner.

  ‘You can always wait outside,’ said Gaunt.

  ‘He doesn’t leave my sight,’ she replied.

  ‘I have a problem here,’ said Gaunt. ‘You tell me you’re my son. That’s both a surprise and a hindrance to a man in my particular circumstance.’

  ‘I don’t mean to be a–’

  ‘What do you mean to be?’ asked Gaunt.

  ‘My mother thinks it would benefit me, as a future leader of House Chass, to learn from you.’

  ‘Learn what? How to fight? Honour? Duty? You can learn all that from her.’

  ‘My mother?’

  ‘No, her,’ said Gaunt, pointing at the lifeguard. ‘But let’s talk about your mother for a moment. According to you, you’re her first and only son. That makes you heir to the House. Why is she risking your life like this? First sons, sometimes second sons too, they’re kept closeted in protective custody to safeguard the bloodline. Getting sent out into the Imperium is usually the fate of subsequent offspring.’

  ‘Verghastite philosophy is somewhat different–’ Maddalena began.

  ‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ said Gaunt. He was immediately annoyed with himself for snapping. He didn’t know what it was, but the lifeguard really got under his skin.

  ‘House Chass has always believed in experiential improvement,’ said Chass. ‘To see the Imperium, to learn about it, to learn from my father, these are all things that will benefit me when I finally take my place.’

  ‘Your mother has never travelled, not as far as I know.’

  ‘She would have,’ said Chass. ‘But she may be required to assume the House sooner than expected. My grandfather is ill.’

  ‘I didn’t know. I’m sorry.’

  Gaunt got up, and began to pace thoughtfully. ‘I’m afraid I think this is about prestige,’ he said. ‘You associate with the famous war hero of Vervunhive, and earn some glory of your own, you’ll go back as more than just a popular heir to the House. That kind of borrowed gloss will get you a planetary seat, a governorship. I think House Chass has great ambitions to fulfil through you.’

  ‘You are dismayingly arrogant,’ said Maddalena.

>   ‘Just tell me I’m not also right,’ said Gaunt.

  There was a knock at the door. Maddalena instinctively reached towards her sidearm.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Gaunt. ‘Enter!’

  Beltayn came in, with Nahum Ludd and Trooper Dalin.

  ‘You sent for these men, sir?’ he asked.

  ‘I did. Come in. You might as well stay and hear this too, Beltayn.’

  Chass had risen to his feet. Both Ludd and Dalin looked at him, curious.

  ‘This, I have just discovered, is my son,’ Gaunt said. He ignored their looks of surprise. ‘I didn’t know I had a son, and now I find myself compromised by the knowledge. This is a risky mission, and potentially none of us may come back. Taking the son I’ve just met along on what could be a suicidal venture hardly seems like the greatest exercise in parental responsibility.’

  Gaunt looked at Ludd and Dalin.

  ‘However, I could hardly leave him behind on Menazoid Sigma either. He wants to join us. He wants to serve with us. That’s a reasonably admirable ambition.’

  ‘I don’t want special treatment,’ said Chass.

  ‘Good, because you’re not getting any,’ said Gaunt. ‘Ludd, I hate to add to your existing workload, but I want you to prepare and process enlistment papers. If he wants to be a Guardsman, it had better be official.’

  ‘And I take it you want me to keep an eye on him too, sir?’ asked Ludd.

  ‘No. Not at all,’ said Gaunt. ‘I want you to keep an eye on her.’ He pointed to Maddalena.

  ‘The young Lord Chass here,’ said Gaunt, ‘is noble born. He has a bodyguard. A good one. It’s the only special favour I’ll show him, allowing her to remain. She can look after him, but she will not get in the way of operations. The moment she does, you can remove her. My full authority. You can shoot her, if needs be.’

  ‘He can try,’ said Maddalena.

  ‘Ludd is an Imperial commissar,’ Gaunt said to her. ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t even think bad things about him.’

  He turned back to the others.

  ‘His lordship must not compromise my decision making, especially not on this mission. I cannot, will not, worry about him, or second guess my choices because of him. Dalin, you’re about his age, so I want you to show him the ropes. There’s no time for basic and induction. Let him shadow you, and teach him what he needs. I ask this as a favour, not a command. When the real fighting starts, we’ll be keeping him away from the brunt of it.’