Imperial Glory

by Richard Williams

  Gomery was curled up with a deflated Mister Emmett under his head, almost as though it was a pillow. Colquhoun was half-in, half-out of a monstrous squig-beast the size of a tank which had fallen across his company. His halberd was still in his hands, jammed up through the roof of the squig-beast’s mouth. Ingoldsby was still upright, impaled through the chest on a spear with a broken shaft; beyond him, running into the jungle, was a trail of the bodies of his men whom he had tried to protect.

  The orks had used rope to hang some of the bodies, squig-beast and Guardsman alike, from the tree branches, like carcasses in a meat locker. There was no time to stop and cut them down and so some of the men began to try and laser the ropes as they went past. The sickening thump the first one made as it fell into a lop-sided ball discouraged them from continuing, even before Carson could chide them for wasting ammunition. The worst moments came as the trail narrowed and there was simply not enough space to edge around. Carson shut his ears at the crunch and pops as his Griffon drove over Brimlock dead. He had had to witness many dreadful sights in his time, but even he spared himself from looking back at the trail of the track-crumpled bodies of his former comrades they left behind.

  It was a nightmare. It was his nightmare, to lose one’s men and then to defile them in such a manner. He glanced over at Stanhope. The major did not even look, did not appear even the least bit concerned. Of course, Carson thought bitterly, he had seen it all before, hadn’t he? But then the rancour vanished and, for that short time, Carson forgave everything that Stanhope had done to himself.

  They had been going for hours now and the mood amongst the survivors had lifted a fraction. They were long past the ambush-site, the orks had not attacked, and Dova, and safety, was close.

  ‘Where in the Emperor’s name have they gone, Blanks?’ Stanhope asked rhetorically. ‘They’ve just vanished.’

  ‘It was the same after the night attack on Fort Eliza,’ Blanks said. ‘That night there was an army of them. The next day, when we were going through the fungus, they were in pieces. They can’t hold it together for long.’

  ‘I wonder why that is,’ Stanhope said.

  ‘I put it down to the Emperor, personally.’

  ‘The Emperor?’ Stanhope was surprised.

  ‘He made it so that they might win battles, but that we would win the wars.’

  They were both thrown forwards as the Griffon braked hard.

  ‘Dova ahead!’ the driver shouted back, excited. ‘Thank Go– Oh, God-Emperor…’

  Ahead of them was Dova, the bastion rising majestically from the jungle, just as when they had left it. But now the gates gaped pathetically open, broken off their hinges, and the walls were adorned with hanging bodies.

  DOVA, Tswaing, Voor pacification Stage 1 Day 21

  Choppa was not happy. The fighting the night and day before had been tremendous. Ripping. They had hacked the aliens to pieces and knocked their metal monsters over. But here had been losses. Of those amongst the warriors, he cared for little; he understood that was how his kind prospered. The strong survived, the weak died and spread their spores to grow new warriors who might be better. It was the losses amongst the meat-beasts that made him think. Almost every single meat-beast the savage tribes had owned, plus all those they had captured from the Stone Smashas, was dead. His warriors’ stomachs were full now, but when that trail of meat-beast flesh was gone, taken or rotted, then they would become hungry and the tribes would turn on each other again.

  Despite his victories, he felt his army crumbling around him. Knobkerrie had woken him that morning with the news that more than half his warriors were missing. At first, Choppa believed it to be treachery, that they were planning a move against him, and he had stormed out with his weapon ready to cut the first challenger he saw in two. Knobkerrie had calmed him down, though, and told him that most had just wandered away. Some had gone after the few meat-beasts remaining, the rest were simply sated with battle and food for a while and so had instinctively headed back into the jungle to the fungus fields that were their home.

  Choppa did not want to return home, however; he wanted to go on. To have more boyz under his command, not fewer. He had not told them that, he realised. His boyz had gone home because they believed the war was over. Only he understood that the war was just beginning.

  That was why Choppa had raised his standard here and called the tribes back to assemble. He wanted to show them what more this world had to offer.

  Stanhope watched as another ork warband emerged from the jungle and made its way across the flattened plain towards the desecrated walls of Dova. This one was larger than the last, over a hundred strong at least, and they brought with them a gift for their warboss. It was Frn’k.

  The ogryn trod carelessly, placidly, being led along on leashes of ropes held by the warriors. He was still gripping Gardner’s autocannon tightly in his arms. Stanhope noticed that, in all of their prodding and pushing, none of the orks came close to touching it.

  It was time. Stanhope passed the monocular over to Heal to keep watching and walked back amongst his men, until he reached the tree which Carson was propped up against.

  ‘Is it Trouble?’ Carson asked as he approached.

  ‘Unmistakeably,’ he replied. ‘How’s Forjaz?’

  ‘He’s…’ Carson didn’t know how else to describe it. ‘He’s exactly as you’d expect him to be.’

  Stanhope nodded and didn’t say anything more. Forjaz had seen his wife, his daughters, his son in his uniform, all hanging from the walls. He had plunged from the lead Griffon and charged down the path towards Dova, shouting oaths of vengeance. It had taken Stanhope, Blanks and nearly a section of men to subdue him and prevent him from alerting every ork inside.

  The families, the young, the invalids, and all the rest of the regiment’s followers were not the only ones strung up. Stanhope turned away from Carson as he remembered Ducky, Marble and all the other injured that Carson had sent back to Dova for their safety. Stanhope could sympathise with them all, of course he could, but the shock had not stopped his mind working. When he saw the field of slaughter, the first thought to enter his head was how he would save his men now. Even as he held Forjaz to the ground, his mind was working as an officer’s should, planning out the next steps they would take. His men would feel their shock, anger and grief, that was to be expected, but he could not allow them to be paralysed by it.

  Blanks appeared, leading Ledbetter towards them. Stanhope had given his officers six minutes to react, feel, and calm their men. That was all the time he would allow. After that, the course of their expedition had to change and that required a new plan.

  ‘I’ve asked Captain Ledbetter to join us. Discuss what’s next,’ Stanhope explained.

  This time it was Carson’s turn to hold his tongue as Ledbetter joined them. Blanks stayed close as well. Before Stanhope had begun, Carson interjected.

  ‘Where’s the colonel?’ he asked. ‘Is he there as well?’

  Stanhope shook his head. ‘He may still be alive, a captive,’ he ventured.

  ‘A Valkyrie is missing,’ Blanks added, which was true; only two Valkyries were lying, burnt-out, on the landing pad.

  Carson encapsulated his opinion of Arbulaster abandoning Dova to the orks in a few, succinct, earthy phrases. When he had finished, Stanhope began.

  ‘We can wait here until the orks leave, but we have no way of knowing how long that will take. It may be days. It may be weeks. It may be never. So here’s what I propose. We spend the night here and if the orks aren’t making a move by tomorrow, we’ll march. We’ll affix a vox, set to transmit, to the top of one of the trees so that if the Valkyrie returns, they’ll detect it and know where we’ve gone,’ he said. He pushed the loose dirt between them aside and drew an outline of the continent in the soil.

  ‘The only other place on Tswaing which had comms powerful enough to reach to
Voorheid is here.’ He pointed at a dot on the coast to the north. ‘The original Voorjer settlements. We believe that this is where Van Am is heading. It’s where she grew up so she knows the land. She must have some means of contacting Voorheid there. I doubt she’ll take the trouble to destroy it before she leaves. These savage orks couldn’t tell the difference between a vox-console and a tanna-brewer in any case.

  ‘If we’re truly lucky, we’ll find boats there as well that can take us safely off the shore while we wait; perhaps they’ll even be able to take us all the way back to Voorheid. Even if there are neither, it’s still a place that any rescue party will check, and where we are most likely to find supplies and a defensible position. It’s a week’s fast march, barring accidents and obstacles. We’ll have to abandon the Griffons, of course, but the cavalry will be able to keep their mounts. It will be hard, but I believe we can make it,’ Stanhope concluded. ‘Any questions?’

  Stanhope looked at the other two officers. Ledbetter’s expression was unreadable; Carson was just staring at him.

  ‘Yes. I have a question,’ Carson said quietly.

  ‘Go on, lieutenant.’

  Carson opened and then clenched his jaw. ‘Is this a joke?’

  Stanhope looked at him hard. ‘If you can see a problem with this, then tell us and we’ll find a solution.’

  ‘My problem…’ Carson said and then set his jaw. He was furious, but Stanhope could not imagine why. ‘My problem is that nowhere in your proposal is the part where we burn these murdering filth from Dova and bury them beneath its walls!’

  Stanhope was taken aback for a moment. ‘Lieutenant!’ he snapped. ‘We cannot contemplate an unsupported assault upon Dova.’

  ‘I’m contemplating it,’ Carson retorted. ‘In fact, I’m demanding it.’ He reached down and brushed aside Stanhope’s dirt outline.

  Stanhope was unimpressed. ‘I’m trying to keep your precious men alive, lieutenant. That is what you wanted from me and what I have sworn to do. An all-out assault on a larger enemy force in a fortified position? They would be massacred.’ Carson was shaking his head, but Stanhope barrelled on. ‘Your first duty is to your orders. But now you have no orders, your next is to your men.’

  ‘And I am fulfilling that duty,’ Carson replied. Stanhope made to stand, resolute, but Carson leaned forwards and grabbed his arm. ‘No, listen to me, major. Truly listen for once. What have these men just seen? These men, my men, have seen the results of one massacre already. They have seen the bodies of the regiment’s women, and their children, and the crippled. They know the killers are sitting on the other side of those walls. Do you think any of them care about their own lives any more? Do you think any of them wouldn’t willingly sacrifice themselves to see justice done?’ Carson could see his words were striking home. ‘Do you think any of them could live with themselves tomorrow or any day after if they had seen such a crime and simply run away?’

  Stanhope had no response to that. Instead, he merely turned to Ledbetter.

  ‘Captain?’ he asked. ‘Your thoughts?’

  ‘I completely agree with the lieutenant, major,’ Ledbetter replied without hesitation. ‘These xenos… abominations,’ he spat, ‘have committed an atrocity. None of my men will rest until it is revenged. As for–’

  Ledbetter paused a moment, struggling briefly with the decision of whether to share himself with these others. ‘As for myself. My woman is in there. She is beautiful and kind, and she has been quite the greatest blessing He has ever given me. And now I am sure that she is as dead as the others, but I do not mourn for I know we will be reunited in His Light. So, as for myself, I have no desire to delay that reunion a moment longer than necessary.’

  Stanhope stared at the cavalry captain, but Ledbetter showed no emotion as he said those words. That was what such faith did.

  ‘Very well,’ Stanhope began again, sketching a new outline on the ground. ‘This is Dova…’

  They had a plan, Stanhope said to himself as he strode away. He walked quickly through the trees until he was out of sight of where the rest of his company was hidden. Then he could contain himself no longer, collapsed to his knees and doubled over. He retched a half-dozen times until finally he had anointed a tiny portion of Voor to be forever Brimlock. He shuffled away then shucked his uniform jacket off, took his knife and started to slice at it. He had the lining ripped, both cuffs opened, every pocket ripped by the time Blanks found him.

  ‘Major!’ Blanks said as he went to him. Stanhope whirled around wildly at the interruption, knife in hand. Blanks reacted without thinking, locking Stanhope’s hand, stripping the weapon, and Stanhope suddenly found the point of his own knife at his throat.

  Blanks threw the knife to one side and released his hold. ‘Apologies, major,’ he said, but Stanhope had more pressing demands. He grabbed the front of the trooper’s uniform, both threat and plea at once.

  ‘Where are they?’ he asked. ‘You must have kept some! Where are they?’

  ‘Major?’ Blanks tried to get through to him, keeping his hands high and open so as not to aggravate him any further.

  ‘You cannot have got rid of them all. I’ve checked everywhere, but nothing.’ Blanks saw Stanhope’s hand go to his sword, but all he did was to wrench off the pommel and show the empty compartment inside. ‘You can’t have left me without any. You’ve got to have them.’

  ‘I don’t, major,’ Blanks said calmly.

  ‘I just want one, private. That is an order. I just need one,’ Stanhope released Blanks and returned to his savaged jacket. ‘It’s happening again. It’s happening again. I swore I’d never… but I have and now it’s happening again!’

  ‘Major!’ Blanks said abruptly to capture his attention. ‘It’s not the same.’

  ‘Of course it’s the same. They’ll all die. They’ll all die again.’

  ‘No, Stanhope,’ Blanks replied firmly. ‘It’s a good plan. We have every chance–’

  ‘We have no chance, Blanks. How many were there in that warband? A hundred or so? Almost as many as us? Emperor only knows how many more of them there are.’

  ‘That’s not significant.’

  Stanhope stopped rummaging inside his jacket. He replied slowly, rolling each word around in his mouth. ‘The fact that we will be… horribly outnumbered… is not… significant?’

  ‘No,’ Blanks said. ‘A single bullet. That’s all it can take to stop an army.’

  ‘But not the orks, private. A single bullet isn’t even enough to stop one of them.’ Stanhope clasped something inside the lining. ‘And there won’t be merely one of them. There will be hundreds of them. And all our men, my men, will die.

  ‘I told myself,’ Stanhope continued. ‘I swore to myself after Cawnpore that I would never do it again. I would never utter the order that would lead good men to cast their lives away for nothing. And then Carson came along and he’s just as I was, just like that major of the 67th. Dedicated, determined, he died rather than murder his men, Carson is the same. I thought I was as well, but I wasn’t. I fooled myself. I wasn’t strong enough then, and I’m not strong enough now.’

  Stanhope pulled his hand out from the lining; in between his fingers was a small, innocuous, dry leaf.

  ‘No,’ Blanks agreed. ‘You’re right. I can see that. You don’t have to utter the order. Carson and Ledbetter are telling their men. You don’t have to do anything any more.’

  As Blanks reached in, Stanhope jerked the leaf away from him, but that was not his target. With a swift, smooth action, Blanks pulled the fell-cutter from its sheath and held it up in his hands. Stanhope reached after it.

  ‘Give that back.’

  Blanks held it away, twisting it slowly in his hand, admiring its construction. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s mine.’

  ‘No it isn’t. It belongs to someone else. You told me that.’ Blanks loo
ked at it again, catching the light with the blade. ‘It belongs to a man who gave it to you to assure you of his loyalty. To tell you of the faith he held in you unto death.’

  Stanhope dropped his arm down and waited. ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘They knew, Stanhope. I can see it in you now and they could see it in you then. They knew what you were asking of them. The same as these men here. They know what their orders mean, but they’ll follow those orders because they trust the men who are giving them.’

  Blanks reversed the sword and sank it, point first, into the dirt of Voor.

  ‘The only person you have left to decide for is yourself, major. When these men go into the fight, these men you say you’ve sworn to keep alive, who will be going in with them? The officer who earned that sword, or the trooper in hiding who’s already gone somewhere else?’

  At that, Blanks walked away, leaving Stanhope with his decision. A few moments later, the fell-cutter was pulled from the ground and down in its place fluttered a small, innocuous, dry leaf.

  Inside Dova, Choppa was fascinated by the gift that the war-party boss had brought him. It wore clothes coloured the same as the grey aliens, but it was far bigger than any of the rest of them. Just as size was of primary importance amongst the orks, perhaps it was the same amongst the aliens as well. Was this their warboss then? It did not act much like one. It was neither outraged, nor proudly defiant. There was nothing of command about it; it simply stood there dumbly, clutching that weapon.

  Choppa told the war-party boss to bring him the weapon. It was much larger than the one his new alien boy and his grot had carried. Perhaps this one would be more robust than theirs. The boss baulked at the instruction. He told Choppa that the big alien had not allowed his boyz to take it away, and had killed one of them. Choppa was excited by that. He would see the big alien fight. He told the boss again to go and fetch the weapon and bared his teeth to underline the consequences of refusal.