The pilot’s voice came back over the sound of the wind.
‘This is Flight Lieutenant Plant, returning with the colonel’s cargo.’
‘What cargo is that?’
‘It’s… My orders were only to report to the colonel…’
‘Listen, man!’ Stanhope snapped. ‘Is it anything we can use to blow the orks we’ve got crawling all over us back into the jungle?’
‘God-Emperor…’ Stanhope heard the pilot gasp as the Valkyrie finally hove into view over Dova and he saw the battle raging on.
‘Answer me!’
‘No, major!’ the pilot reported quickly. ‘It’s… crates of liquor, sir. Boxes of food. Tins of candied fruit. It’s what the colonel ordered…’ He trailed off.
In the corner, Arbulaster gurgled.
‘…thought I should give the men a surprise…’
‘What are your orders, major?’
‘Dump it! Dump it all! Preferably on the heads of the orks! Then–
Mouse cut him off. ‘Come in close to the vox tower and pick us up!’
‘Ignore that, pilot. Mouse, shut up! Plant, drop inside the walls and extract every trooper you can find!’
‘Wait! Wait!’ Mouse started to shout.
‘Mouse, I said shut up!’
‘No! Serious! Serious! Don’t get too close or they’ll do it again!’
‘Do what again?’
‘What they did! How they took Dova!’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
DOVA, Tswaing, Voor pacification Stage 1 Day 21
On the Griffon-line, Carson’s men produced a blizzard of las-fire to try to keep the ork horde back. They had pushed through the choke point at the gates and now were piling up to the sides of the Griffons themselves. Some troopers thought to stand so as to be able to fire down at the orks who had made it into the lee, and they in turn became targets for the ork hunting javelins. The end was close, but not close enough for Choppa as he stepped between the gate posts. He held his totem high once more and struck it with his cleaver.
Stanhope heard the warning alarms blare in the Valkyrie’s cockpit before the entire signal cut out. Mouse appeared up on the shooting deck.
‘What in damnation was that?’ Stanhope demanded.
‘Something their warboss has. It’s shorted the vox again!’
Damn the vox, Stanhope thought as he rushed across to the edge of the shooting deck, what about the men? He grabbed the side and pulled himself up to see the Griffon-line, or where once the Griffon-line had been. The troopers had had their lasguns short in their hands and the Griffons ignite beneath them. The orks had been all over them in seconds and were triumphantly tearing them apart and racing for the bastion.
‘Blanks! Blanks, get up here!’ Stanhope shouted behind them. Mouse was at the edge beside him.
‘Look, the Valkyrie!’
The Valkyrie had been hit, but not as badly. Plant was barely keeping her in the air. She was swaying from side to side as Plant fought with the controls. Mouse leapt up beside Stanhope and balanced on the window sill.
‘Major!’ he cried. ‘Come get on the roof. We can get him down here.’
Stanhope turned back to Arbulaster.
‘What about the colonel?’
Mouse’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘Personally I’d use him as a doorstop, but he’s a bit bloody big. Let’s go!’ he shrieked, and scrambled onto the roof.
Stanhope heard Mouse’s shouts to the Valkyrie pilot and walked over to Arbulaster.
‘Colonel. Colonel!’ he said, attracting his attention. Arbulaster looked at him.
‘Would you like me to…’ Stanhope began and drew the fell-cutter.
Arbulaster looked at it, then slowly nodded.
‘So…’ he muttered quietly, ‘there it is…’
Stanhope swung.
‘A good cut, major,’ Blanks said behind him.
Stanhope lowered the bloodied weapon.
‘I’ve blockaded the doors as best as can be done,’ Blanks continued. ‘It should give you a few minutes at least.’
Stanhope wiped the blood from his sword and put it back in its sheath. ‘Have you ever considered that it may not be entirely beneficial to your health to be constantly surprising people, private?’
‘I find it’s certainly less beneficial for their health, major.’
Stanhope looked back to the window. ‘Mouse has the right idea. Let’s get up there.’ He tied the colours around himself again. ‘Plant might not risk it for us, but he’ll risk it for this.’
Stanhope went across and lifted himself up onto the window before he realised that Blanks hadn’t followed him.
‘Respectfully, no, major.’
‘What’s that?’ Stanhope said, exasperated.
‘You asked me who I thought I was.’
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t know for sure, but I think what was done to me is only done to those who’ve committed some great sin. To give us the chance to atone for whatever it was. I’m not a person any more, Stanhope. I’m a weapon. And there’s a whole army out there that isn’t going stop here at Dova. It isn’t even going to stop on Voor. But I can stop it here.’
‘You can’t stop an army,’ Stanhope stated. ‘Not even you, Blanks.’
‘Remember what I said, it can just take a single bullet. If you put it in the right place.’
‘You don’t have a bullet,’ Stanhope reminded him.
‘I don’t need one.’
Stanhope watched him walk down the steps and out of sight. He closed his eyes and said a prayer and then hauled himself onto the roof.
‘He won’t come down!’ Mouse shouted. Stanhope looked up. Plant’s control was still shaky. He hadn’t moved off, but he wasn’t descending either.
‘Let’s show him what we can offer then,’ Stanhope said and untied the colours. He let the banner stream out in the Valkyrie’s downdraught. That got a reaction. The Valkyrie started to descend, but only as far as the top of the vox tower. The array of antennae from the tower blocked him coming down any further.
‘Looks like we’re going to have to–’ Stanhope began, but Mouse was already climbing the tower up to where the Valkyrie hovered. Its rear hatch opened, and there was a crewman inside, beckoning them up.
Stanhope fastened the colours and started to climb as well. As he climbed though, he felt his limbs start to weigh him down. First his legs, then his arms, then his head. He was tired. So very tired. He stopped for a few seconds to rest. He looked around at the stunning view all around him. The trail they had cut. The fort they had held. The crater they had taken. The ambush, the blood they had shed. He looked down at Dova and the faces slid before his eyes. Blanks. Booth. Ducky. Marble. Gardner. Forjaz. Red. Carson. The leaves. He saw a rain of them sheet past him. They would be there ready to catch him. They would have him again.
He pulled himself up another metre and looked up, at the Valkyrie above him. He saw on its underside those same markings as had been on Zdzisław’s. After his crash, his pilots had painted them on their birds’ bellies so that no commissar would see them, but they would know they were there.
He saw something drop beside him. They were giving him a lifeline. They were throwing him a rope. He took the colours from around him and tied them on. The Valkyrie lost height for a moment and jerked a fraction to one side. Stanhope felt the vox tower fly from his feet. He was in the air, his grip on the colours all that was holding him.
‘You’re going to have to hold on!’
Stanhope looked up, his vision swimming. In that moment, it was not the Valkyrie crewman reaching out to him, it was Blanks. Blanks would always pull him out.
…how…? he wondered.
‘You’re going to have to hold on, sir!’ Blanks the crewman shouted.
Never called me s
ir.
‘Hold on!’ he seemed to shout again.
Don’t have the strength.
‘Hold on!’
Not strong enough. Can’t survive again.
‘Hold on!’
Can’t do it all again.
‘Hold on!’
Can’t bear it.
‘Hold on!’
Not again.
‘Hold on!’
Stanhope relaxed and let the colours run through his fingers. He lay back into the air.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘Brimlock Eleventh!’ the regimental sergeant major bellowed. ‘Form companies!’
The troopers of the Brimlock 11th scrambled to obey, their own company sergeant majors worrying them into position as though they were dogs herding cattle.
Stanhope watched the carefully controlled chaos as, slowly, the individual companies started to emerge. He started walking down the front line, looking for his place.
He passed the cavalry and Ledbetter there dipped his lance in salute, then the artillery and Rosa gave him a wave, brandishing some kind of meat bone. Drum treated him to a blast of battle-hymns on his vox-amps and pranced a bizarre saluting dance on top of his tank. Stanhope acknowledged them all, but his place was not with them.
He passed Deverril, Wymondham, Ingoldsby, Fergus, Tyrwhitt, Gomery, Colquhoun, still no sign of his men. He saw Arbulaster, chest out, gut in, standing as proud as he’d ever seen him, Brooce by his side. Stanhope did not look his way, though, he just carried on walking. He passed Roussell, who did not seem able to stop adjusting himself. Stanhope saluted and Roussell scowled. There, finally, there he found his company. Zezé, Repton and Heal were deep in discussion. Marble was fiddling with his rifle. Forjaz was trying to fend off his doting wife and children, while Ducky took a few steps and hurled his lasgun away as he always did.
He gave a nod to Carson and took his place at their head. He shielded his eyes to see what their destination was, but could not make it out in the light.
‘Major Stanhope, sir! Step out of that position!’ Booth shouted at him. Stanhope turned, confused. This was where he belonged. Carson sauntered over to him.
‘That’s not your place, Stanhope,’ he said. ‘Someone’s already there.’
‘Who? I don’t see them?’ Stanhope queried.
‘Of course not.’
The orders came through to prepare to march and Stanhope found himself moving aside. ‘But I should be marching with you,’ he said. ‘You’re my men.’
‘No, major,’ Carson told him. ‘We only borrowed each other. Besides, there’s someone waiting for you.’
The order to march came and the Brimlock 11th started to move out and leave Stanhope behind. One of the troopers broke ranks, however, and came running over to him.
‘Major! Major!’ Gardner said. ‘I wanted you to meet my brother.’ Gardner held his arm out into space as though he was gripping someone around the shoulder.
‘There’s no one there,’ Stanhope told him.
‘Of course he’s there!’ Gardner laughed back. ‘He waited for me, didn’t you?’
Gardner wrestled playfully with the air for a moment and then turned away. ‘Got to be getting back, major. Come on, Trouble.’
Stanhope watched the trooper, chatting away to nothing, run back to the company.
‘Starting to figure it out, Stanhope?’ a voice said behind him.
Stanhope turned around. The man Stanhope had known as Blanks was standing there. His face was the same, less the wide-eyed look that Blanks had occasionally had. His uniform was not.
‘Major,’ Blanks said.
Stanhope caught sight of his insignia.
‘Colonel,’ Stanhope replied and saluted. Blanks saluted back.
‘Do you know why now? Do you remember?’ Stanhope asked.
Blanks nodded.
‘Was it a punishment?’
‘No. It was a mercy.’ Blanks looked behind him. ‘The things I’d seen… It was His blessing.’
Stanhope nodded. Blanks glanced behind him.
‘I have to get going. My men have been waiting for me.’
Stanhope looked. ‘I don’t see them.’
‘You won’t,’ Blanks replied. ‘You don’t know them, that’s why you can’t see them.’ Blanks saluted farewell and turned crisply on his heel.
‘Were you him?’ Stanhope called. ‘Were you the mutineer? Were you Hacher?’
Blanks turned back.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘We were the ones who killed him,’ and he disappeared.
Stanhope looked about him, aimlessly. He should go on, but surely not alone. Then one last figure approached him from the haze. Just one at first, but then Stanhope saw the dozens arrayed in precise ranks behind him.
‘We’ve been waiting for you, sir.’
‘You’ve been waiting? All this time?’
‘Of course, sir. We are your men.’
Stanhope nodded and, unseemly as it was, could not hold back the smile. He reached down to his belt and untied his sword and then presented it.
‘I believe your word has been kept. This should be yours again.’
Sub Pagedar took it in his graceful hands and returned his major’s smile.
‘At your command, sir,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ Stanhope agreed. ‘At my command.’
And ahead of them in the distance, Stanhope heard Private Heal strike up the song from his homeland, and he sang without restraint for the company’s colour-sergeant was not there to quiet him. And the others raised their voices with him as the Brimlock 11th marched into the Emperor’s light.
Dedicated to the veterans of my own family; the ones who came home and the ones who serve still.
Colour-Sergeant Anthony Clarke Booth VC
1846–1899
80th Regiment of Foot
(The South Staffordshire Regiment)
Private Ernest Breedon
1899–1961
The Durham Light Infantry
The Home Guard
Private Harry Breedon
1896–1916
The Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire Regiment (The Sherwood Foresters), 1st/7th Bn.
Private George Smith
1899–1988
The Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire Regiment (The Sherwood Foresters)
The Bedfordshire Regiment
Private John Alan Smith
1934–1997
The Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire Regiment (The Sherwood Foresters)
The Royal Warwickshire Regiment
Private Harry Stones
1899–1917
Army Cyclist Corps, 2nd Bn.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Richard Williams was born in Nottingham, UK and was first published in 2000. He has written fiction for publications ranging from Inferno! to the Oxford & Cambridge May Anthologies, on topics as diverse as gang initiation, medieval highwaymen and arcane religions. In his spare time he is a theatre director and actor. Relentless was his first full-length novel and his latest book is Imperial Glory.
Visit his official website at www.richard-williams.com
A BLACK LIBRARY PUBLICATION
Published in 2011 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd., Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK
Cover illustration by Raymond Swanland
© Games Workshop Limited, 2011. All rights reserved.
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