Galactic Troopers

by Ian Woodhead

  The Prime Chaplain did not understand that, so he brushed it to the back of his mind. Instead, he composed himself while he did his best to study the most desirable woman in the Empire without being seen.

  The holographic image of the second most powerful figure in the Terran Empire turned her head to converse with a minion not visible. It gave him the opportunity to study her closer. Nobody knew her true age. The High Priestess had stayed looking like a young woman in her early twenties for over a hundred years. The fact that she should now resemble a feeble old crone did not stop millions of teenage males lusting after her. Of course, they kept their thoughts to themselves. To openly boast about what they could do with her full figure, long legs, and platinum blonde curly hair would likely end in lashes in a punishment square. He did know that the High Priestess did take lovers on a regular basis, but none of them lived to recant their exploits once she became bored of them.

  On this occasion, she wore a sparkling pale cream shawl, with what hinted to be a dark green skin hugging dress underneath. If he was of sound mind and was not terrified that his very existence hinged on his next few words, the Prime Chaplain would have rather enjoyed the sight.

  “Do you wish me to remove the shawl so you can take a closer look, Philip?”

  He reddened. The Prime Chaplain thought she had read his mind until he released he’d been staring. “My apologies, I was—”

  “I know what you were doing,” she interrupted. “Do you have anything new to report or are you purposely wasting my time?”

  “With the additional recordings, I can announce that the human and Zaginti populations were not disintegrated,” he said. “The available evidence does suggest that the aggressors could have displaced them.” He paused and tried not to allow his nervousness to show. She wanted more; she was waiting for him to continue. At this rate, it was he who would end up being disintegrated. “The aliens showed no further interest in the planet once they had dispensed with the inhabitants. There was no occupation nor did they attempt to strip the planet of minerals. They simply took what they came for and moved on to the next one.”

  She nodded. “Yes, that’s what I first assumed. The invaders had only come to those worlds to harvest.”

  The High Priestess had already known what he would find! The ramifications of this now began to sink in. His confirmation would be taken as a discovery if the Inquisition learned of this matter. Meaning the woman had just shifted all responsibility for this matter onto the Prime Chaplain’s already over-burdened shoulders.

  “What do you suggest we do?”

  Her question took the Prime Chaplain totally by surprise. It was the same question that he was about to ask her. “We should be looking for the missing Imperial citizens,” he answered. “As Prime Chaplain, that should be my only concern.”

  “No. Your only concern is to ensure the safety of your God-Emperor. Your idea is cowardly. It is a banal reaction to this dire situation. I did not drop the future of our great Empire into your fumbling hands only for you to hide beneath your robe.”

  The Inquisition were already on their way to his sanctum. He did not need to read her savage posture to understand he would not see another dawn. He looked away from her steady gaze. The Prime Chaplain climbed back into his chair. He no longer felt the need to show his respect to the woman as very soon he would soon be joining the minor heretic in his cell. The image of the second human world visited by the orbs was still showing on his monitor. It had been this incident that had put ex-Trooper Cole into that cell. He heard the man had fallen to his knees in the middle of a crowded spaceport and announced to all the startled travellers that the aliens were coming.

  Philip took his eyes off the image. He turned to the High Priestess and offered her a beaming smile of his own, taking some satisfaction at seeing her posture soften. “Yes, of course. The priority should be to seek, locate, and destroy the aggressors. Therefore, I request that the minor heretic be pardoned. Restored to active service but under my protection.”

  That irritating head shake stopped him in his tracks before the Prime Chaplain could finish his proposal.

  “The prisoner is a minor heretic. It is written in scripture the God-Emperor only considers the Imperial warriors worthy to wield his gifts. As you have been given holy dispensation, your blasphemy will go unpunished.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do about this fucking disaster when you force me to think along such narrow perimeters!” he cried. Immediately, he regretted the outburst. Holy dispensation did not protect him from committing the sin of dishonour to his High Priestess.

  “The perimeters are just a fiction build across your mind, my friend. As Prime Chaplain, it is your duty to embrace the God-Emperor’s holy judgement. Use what has been given to you, Philip. The answers you seek are within your grasp.”

  The Prime Chaplain stared at the other image of the Gizanti male cowering under the living vehicle and realised exactly what she was trying to say to him. “I use my special dispensation to order the minor heretic’s execution to be postponed under this crisis is over.”

  “That is agreeable. Do you have any more requests?”

  He nodded. “Yes. If it pleases the High Priestess, I would ask for authorisation for myself and the minor heretic to travel to the Gizanti home-world.”

  “And how do you propose to do that considering the restrictions imposed on the prisoner?”

  “We still have the Gizanti prisoner and we still possess his ship. There is nothing within doctrine which prohibits humans from utilising alien equipment.” The Prime Chaplain would still need to take his Index on his journey, but he decided not to mention that.

  “Then it is decided.” The hologram nodded to someone off screen before turning her attention once more to Philip. “You are to leave immediately. There will be a small squadron of Imperial marines which will serve as your protection. May the God-Emperor give you the will and determination to cleanse the alien.”

  The papal key was pushed out of the slot at the same time as the doors to his chamber slid open. Eight Imperial marines stood to attention before performing the same bow which he gave to the High Priestess. The Prime Chaplain used the moment to snatch the Index from her pale green holder and stuff the six-inch yellow crystal inside his robe.

  “Sir, we pledge allegiance to you and to the God-Emperor’s holy mission. We shall be your shield, your fist, and your council.”

  He gave them the appropriate response and bowed his own head as a mark of respect.

  “If you would like to follow us, sir, we will take you to your ship.”

  Did they know exactly what kind of ship the marines were about to board? It would make an interesting observation if they had not been told beforehand. Most humans, including the military, had a deep mistrust of anything alien. To travel upon through space on a vessel which was allegedly alive would make even the stoutest of individual feel most nauseous. Come to think of it, how was the heretic going to react to this? From his observations, the human was not the most stable of individuals.

  The Prime Chaplain composed himself and walked out of his room, wondering if he would ever see this place again. A part of him found this very exciting. It was the same aspect which understood that she had played him like an ancient piano. If he hadn’t started to think around corners, these eight marines would have led him in the opposite direction towards one of the many execution squares in the city.

  Everything had obviously been prepared even before the High Priestess had asked him to study the recordings. If the Prime Chaplain had not jumped through all the hoops, then that woman had many more subjects she could ‘ask.’

  He decided that it would be good for him to escape from the danger of court life for a brief moment in his life. Engaging an unknown highly advanced alien species would be far safer than dodging the drama encountered within this building every day.

  Chapter Four

  After twelve service years, Trooper Cole believed that cutting t
hrough the black-weave, even in a vessel which bordered on the obscene, would be such a non-event event. He hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. Why should he? His mind was still reeling from finding himself on a Gizanti warship, crewed by humans and with some scary-looking Chaplain who all looked as confused about this whole situation as each other. Cole did his best to emulate their emotion. Despite his voice of reason explaining exactly why they had removed him from that comfortable cell and placed him on this alien vessel, he still had trouble believing Mr. Smith’s words. So he was a prophet now? According to Mr. Smith, he had seen exactly what happened on this dirt-ball planet.

  After spending his adult life crewing every class of ship in the Imperial fleet, Trooper Cole hadn’t even considered that cutting through the black-weave would affect him, even on this thing. A living starship, something which looked like it had been ejected from the anal vent of a giant killcluster lizard. Every moveable part inside it bordered on the obscene. To make matters worse, if it could have gotten any worse, the interior looked wet. He had even tried to spend some of his time walking through this vile-looking ship with his eyes closed.

  Trooper Cole lifted his aching head off the soft mud. The others were already inside the complex, leaving him and the Gizanti to act as lookouts. What a joke that was. Despite being far better trained than any of those marines, they all treated him like something they’d scraped off their boot. Those chapel-house-trained morons treated the Gizanti was more respect. It is almost as if none of the slug-brained fools realised that he was supposed to be their most valuable cargo.

  He groaned while he pulled his body through this vile grey slime another inch. The Gizanti beside him moved up too. Unlike him, the alien moved through the muck like a pole sliding through grease. Not one particle of the planet’s surface adhered to its soft underside or its armoured plating. How did it do that? Trooper Cole also noted that the Gizanti had altered its colouring to match the mud. He had no idea that the aliens possessed chameleon-like properties.

  Perhaps if he wasn’t alone, cold, and feeling like a building had fallen on his head, Trooper Cole might have been able to appreciate that perhaps he should have had a little more faith in Mr. Smith. He wasn’t pardoned. The scary-looking Chaplain had made that fact abundantly clear, but he was out of that cell and still alive. That had to account for something.

  “I almost wish I was back on the ship,” he whispered. Trooper Cole glanced across at his Gizanti friend. “It might look like the inside of my guts, but at least it is warm.” He sure hoped his voice of reason was okay. The marines refused permission to allow him to bring Mr. Smith. The Prime Chaplain did promise to look after Mr. Smith, but he said the words in such a way that intoned the scary-looking man would empty the contents of the small box down the toilet as soon as Trooper Cole left the ship.

  “Human Cole. It is not proper to disrespect any Battle Sister in the presence of a Gizanti warrior.” He turned on his side. “She has not yet adapted to these terrifying new circumstances. I am not confident that she ever will.”

  “Apologies. I do not always consider the possible outcome before opening my big mouth.”

  The Gizanti gave the approximation of a shrug. “You are only a human and do not understand our ways. No reason for you to repent. There is scope for enlightenment within your feeble mind; therefore, you and I can stay bonded.” The Gizanti sat up and picked a bright red globe from what looked like a tree and popped it into his mouth. “The other humans who have tethered and defiled the Battle Sister do not have this honour.” He then spat a wrinkled brown pip into the palm of his hand then offered it to Trooper Cole. “Take it and chew.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I mean, it’s been in your mouth.”

  “Would you prefer to continue feeling the effects from the weave-cut?”

  The marines and the Prime Chaplain were all given a solution of chemicals to drink once the ship had emerged into normal space. As minor heretic, and because the chemicals were of Imperial manufacture, Trooper Cole didn’t receive anything to nullify the adverse effects from the weave-cut. The marines found his suffering amusing. Just as they also applauded the Prime Chaplain’s decision not to supply Imperial-made armour to him.

  Trooper Cole squinted at the dubious-looking stone that the Gizanti had just dropped into his palm before giving the alien one last look before he opened his mouth and placed it on his tongue. He figured that the worst thing that could happen, the absolute worst, was he either be poisoned or he would choke to death. He swallowed the seed pod, figuring if it did kill him, it would at least save him from watching those moronic black-clad, dim-brained fools from shooting him.

  “Thank you, Gizanti.”

  “You may call me Cladinus, human. As we are bonded, it is only proper we address each other in the correct manner.”

  “Fair enough. My name is Danny.”

  “I already know your name, Danny.”

  He now found he could lift his head without a rock avalanche crashing down over his ears. “Oh, that’s better!” Danny followed the alien’s gaze past the edge of this strange forest and over to the only artificial building in the vicinity. The complex clearly wasn’t a Gizanti-grown building and, according to his new friend, it couldn’t have been there at all. Cladinus told the Prime Chaplain, Danny, and the marines, before they landed the ship that the area around the new building was sacred ground.

  Trooper Cole then returned his gaze to the alien. After spending most of the journey here locked in the same compartment with Cladinus, he believed he was beginning to recognise his facial expressions. Right now, it looked like he was laughing.

  “Do you welcome death, human?”

  “I have faced the bastard on too many occasions to be able to answer that truthfully.” He turned his head and looked past the forest to where Cladinus had told the marine crew to land the ship. The alien was quite specific on where to land the ship. On this rare occasion, the dim-brained maniacs had obeyed him.

  In spite of their utter self-belief that the human species was superior in every aspect to some dirty alien and their surety of having complete control over this Gizanti warship, there had to be a small part of their soul that still thought an unknown section of this living beast could still spring out from nowhere and eat them. At least, that’s what Trooper Cole hoped. He also hoped that his Gizanti pal would be to wrestle control from the marines wherever he chose to, just in case they did decide to carry out that execution.

  “Come on, Cladinus, are you going to tell me why you just asked me that question or are you just going to sit there, giggling away?”

  The big alien sprang to his feet. He placed his huge hands on Danny’s side, picked him off the ground, and pulled him right up to his face. “Death is the only certainty. We endure through our limited existence, hoping that the Nine Gods will reward our spirit after it leaves the body.”

  “You’re hurting me,” he said through gritted teeth. The alien didn’t seem to hear him.

  “We fill our world with life to appease all Gods but one. For Danak is the keeper of our bodies and to grow life from death will only insult him.” Cladinus carefully turned and lowered Danny to the ground. “If the humans had taken the Battle Sister to a human planet, I believe you would see similar structures inside your burial grounds. Do you understand this?”

  Danny rubbed his side. “Not a bit of it.”

  The alien pushed him backwards. “You need to go, Danny. Get to the ship before it is too late. Do not worry. I will attempt to stop them from reaching you. It is the least I can do for my bonded human.”

  “Wait, what are you talking about?” Cladinus had not stopped laughing. Danny was now beginning to wonder if he had read the alien’s expression correctly.

  “I do welcome death. I shall leave this world to the children we have grown and join my brothers and sister who now reside with Eight of our Nine Gods.” He leaned closer. “Go, human. Do not allow our Ninth God to taste any more human flesh.” />
  Danny stayed exactly where he was, despite the fact that he could now hear ominous rumblings coming from somewhere beneath his feet. “Start making sense, Cladinus. Remember, I’m not all that intelligent.” He wished Mr. Smith was here. His voice of reason would know exactly what this weird alien was babbling on about. He shifted from leg to leg when the rumbling increased. The grey slop around his feet started to bubble up.

  The alien reached for him. This time, Danny danced out of the way. “Oh no, big guy. You are not carrying me anywhere.”

  “Foolish human,” said the alien, running straight at Danny. Cladinus grabbed his wrist and dragged Danny through the forest.

  He had no chance of removing the alien’s thick digits off his flesh. All he could do was to try not to slip while the Gizanti propelled him through the strange forest while doing his best to avoid the winding branches, which seemed determined to snag him and rip off what little clothing he still possessed. It was only when the ship came into view when the alien finally slowed down and stopped.

  “Now go, human. Rejoin your race while you can still do so. Do not worry. The Battle Sister will take you home before she returns.”

  Danny’s harsh reply died on his tongue when he turned and yelped at the sight of movement within the forest. It honestly looked like the wet, grey, sticky mess was coming alive. “What is going on, Cladinus?” He reached for his gun, realising at the last moment that he didn’t have one. The bastards wouldn’t even give him a knife.

  “It is interesting to discover the shells or my brethren are still able to blend even though their spirits are long gone.” The alien lowered his head. “No more warnings. Go now and let me return to the soil.”

  Trooper Cole then understood exactly what he was seeing within the darkness of the forest when the foul stench of death smacked him in the face. He reached up and snatched the alien’s huge knife from the scabbard and ran towards the first tree. “Fine, kill yourself, do whatever you want. I’m not leaving them behind.”