Baneblade

by Guy Haley

  High up on the other side of the cavern, Olli led him to a shelf of rock with an overhanging lip. The mutant dragged a boulder over to the foot of this cliff, just large enough to allow them to climb up to the shelf if they stood on it. Olli uncoiled a length of rope from his pack and carefully rested the rock on top of a loop of it, then pulled the loop of rope over the back of the rock. He gestured for Bannick to clamber up, then followed himself after passing Bannick the rope.

  Once up, Olli pulled hard on the rope, causing the boulder to flip over and roll away.

  ‘There, now we safe,’ he said. ‘Nothing can get up.’ He dusted his hands off. ‘We eat.’ From his pack he produced a small stove made of salvaged metal, pumped it to prime it and lit it.

  Bannick understood the blackened marks he’d seen on flat stones in the upper caverns. There were plenty on the rock platform. Olli poured in water from Ganlick’s canteen, and added some dessicated lumps of sand-mite meat and some kind of plant material. Then he went to the back of the shelf, and produced more food, bedrolls and extra lamps from a niche in the rock, hidden by a flat stone.

  ‘This is a safe haven for your people?’ said Bannick.

  ‘Oh yes, yes!’ said Olli. ‘The cavern quetlings, they not get us here.’

  Bannick nodded, raised his own canteen and took a much-needed draught. He recapped the bottle, then noticed Olli looking at it longingly. He realised then that the mutant had used all his own water in preparing the meal for the pair of them.

  He eyed the mutant dubiously. Olli was unclean in body and therefore in spirit, his body covered in sores. There was no telling what diseases he carried.

  That had not stopped him from helping him.

  Slowly, Bannick extended the canteen towards Olli.

  The man’s eyes lit up with gratitude. Licking scabbed and dry lips, he took the bottle, and drank his fill.

  Bannick woke twice in the night. The first time was to an unearthly howl, followed by a terrible animal squealing. Exhausted, he drifted to sleep again, only to be stirred awake a second time by the sound of weeping.

  He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘Olli, are you all right?’ he asked.

  The mutant started, his long rifle jumping on his knees. ‘Oh! Oh, is you, sky-soldier.’ He wiped his face. ‘Is nothing. I think of my wife. She dead now, long time since. I long for her still.’ The mutant cleared his throat. ‘You go sleep. We have long journey tomorrow.’

  Bruta was short and slight, as many Kalidarians of the lower castes were, a result of poor nutrition and low gravity. He was otherwise untouched by mutation, and carried with him an air of authority. The other inhabitants of the ramshackle cave town Bannick found himself in paid all deference to him.

  His office was made of rough-hewn stone, but its walls were lined with books and other data storage media. A half-metre statue of the Emperor stood on a table towards the door.

  ‘Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘The best I can do for you now is to offer you quarters and lodging. I cannot spare men to guide you back to your unit. I cannot risk leading the orks into this refuge.’

  His accent was that of the lower orders of Kalidar, yet he spoke clearly and intelligently. A self-educated man.

  ‘And if I choose to leave myself?’

  ‘Then you will be restrained.’ Bruta’s face bore an ugly triangular scar, where his implanted rebreather had been removed, Bannick guessed. It twisted as he smiled apologetically. He fixed his one good eye on Bannick, the other milky and blind.

  ‘The war is at a crucial stage,’ said Bannick. ‘I was on a clandestine mission when I was separated from my men…’

  ‘Your drive across the basin? You intend to attack Orktown, I assume? To take back the hive? A fool’s errand. You are surprised,’ said the man, ‘yet we sandscum have spies. The servants, the servants of servants, the maintenance crews, the work gangs… Our agents are everywhere, for all have reason to hate the ruling classes here. Your departure was noted and passed on. Our influence goes deeper than you think. I’ve had men on sandpike trailing you the entire way.’

  ‘I see,’ said Bannick.

  ‘Do not worry, your secret is safe,’ said Bruta. ‘We want the orks here no more than you. But I cannot allow you to leave. This refuge remains secret, thus far. Your departure will risk our safety.’

  ‘You will not help us, help the Emperor then?’

  ‘Why should we? You have seen the conditions we are forced to work under, we of the lower castes?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ admitted Bannick.

  ‘And?’

  ‘I realise you do not have easy lives.’

  Bruta looked him up and down. ‘Look at you, born into some wealthy caste somewhere.’ He waved his hand angrily in his direction. ‘I can see that from your bearing, not unlike the way our hivelords strut. I recognise a lord or whatever you call yourselves when I see one, there’s no hiding it. We are no different to the other men who make up the population of this world, no less in the eyes of the Emperor. But look, see my face? A scar from the device implanted upon me as soon as I stopped growing. I would have been bred twice, then forced to work the mines until I dropped. The mutants have it worse. By all rights, they should hate us all, we pureborn, and yet they do not. When I escaped my work detail a band of them took me in, brought me here to the only place where I have ever been shown kindness. Tell me, lieutenant, why should I risk the lives of my people helping those who have done nothing but oppress my kind?’

  ‘Because the Emperor wills it to be so,’ said Bannick.

  ‘If that is the case, He can come here and ask me Himself,’ said Bruta. He shook his head, and genuflected towards the statue, muttering an apology. He leaned on his desk and dropped his head. ‘You make me forget myself. Please, stay here, be our guest, not our prisoner. We have a hard life, but it is more of a life than many on this world enjoy, and freer. We could use a man like you.’

  Bannick shook his head. ‘No. I have to go, it is my duty, I am under orders. Think, mayor Bruta. What will you do if the expedition fails? If the orks continue to guess our every move? There is a mind…’

  ‘The ork witch?’ Bruta asked. ‘I have heard of him. He is a monster, by all accounts. Only the concentration of lorelei in the basin above keeps him ignorant of our location.’

  ‘There you are.’ He held out his hand. ‘But do you not think that he will find you eventually? If the Imperium loses this world, and it falls under ork dominion for all time, what will become of your people then?’

  ‘They will not let us fall. I have it on good authority that Kalidar is of some importance to another Imperial crusade.’

  Another surprise. ‘It is, but of minor importance. There are to be no new reinforcements, did you know that?’ Bannick was risking his life sharing such information.

  Bruta frowned. ‘No, no I did not.’

  ‘The Imperium is stretched thin in the Segmentum Pacificus, Bruta; there’s more to the galaxy than your cave, and though it might seem a long way away, it affects you, even here. Many regiments and battlefleets have left for the galactic west. If this world cannot be secured by what is available, there will be no more raisings, do you understand? Kalidar will be virus bombed, and even you, here underground, will not survive that. Then new workers will be brought in, and the cycle will continue, only you and yours will have been wiped from history.’

  Bruta ground his knuckles into the desk, then spoke. ‘I am sorry. I will not aid those who would kill us by throwing our lives away. If you will not agree to remain of your own volition, you will be held until such time as I can be sure that you pose no threat to this settlement.’

  ‘Listen! We have tanks, we are…’

  ‘I have made my decision. Lieutenant, I am sorry.’

  He rang for his guards, and they took Bannick away.

  Bannick sat on the dry sand floor of hi
s cell. It was as light in there as it was outside, both the inner walls of the prison and the cavern itself being covered in the luminescent algae and plant-animals. Outside, he could hear the quiet noises of a village, the sounds of draught beasts, small machines, the occasional snatch of laughter or speech. The scent of dung, growing things, and the peculiar meaty smell of fires fuelled by the plant-animals wafted in through the barred window; Bruta had made a haven of peace in the heart of a war.

  Bannick had been well treated, far better than his hosts would have been by the Kalidarian elite, or his own army for that matter. Some sandscum were employed as native scouts and light cavalry, but they were held in derision by the normal men of the army group. And why not? When had he ever treated a mutant any better himself?

  He thought back to his youth, light years behind him.

  Perhaps incarceration here was a fitting fate for him. Obscurity and inevitable old age, or disease and a pointless death. For had he not been prideful? Had he not, in his hearts of hearts, hoped for glory to wash away his sin of dishonour? He should have focused on serving the Emperor, and not himself. He’d been given every chance, after all. Pride was not a sin, not when it could be used to serve, but it was when it took one away from the Emperor’s purpose. He’d hoped to keep some of the fruit of his labours for himself. His stupid boyhood lust for glory, he’d never be rid of it.

  He groaned and knocked the back of his head against the wall.

  I’m sorry, my lord, he thought to himself. I’m sorry.

  Time passed. He took to pacing back and forth. Lost in thought, he continued to do so for some time.

  The door opened; Bruta, flanked by nervous-looking men.

  ‘If you promise not to run away, I could use your help,’ said the mayor.

  ‘Why?’ said Bannick. ‘Have you seen the sense of my argument?’

  ‘Orks,’ said Bruta. ‘You are the only professional soldier I have here. Care to lend me your skills?’

  Bannick shrugged. ‘It’s better than sitting out the war in this cell.’

  ‘Good.’ Bruta nodded behind him. Bannick’s weapons and equipment were tossed onto the sand. ‘We’re leaving in two minutes.’

  Ork speech boomed up and down the transit tunnel. There were fourteen of them, clustered about the body of a six-legged creature Bannick had learned was a sandpike, the carnivorous pseudo-lizard that the sandscum hunted for mounts and for meat. They’d made camp in between two piles of sand, off the old track beds. Here and there pieces of rotting monotrack could still be seen, half-buried in the sand, six hundred years since any train had used them.

  Two of the orks were arguing about how best to joint the beast. Others looked at them, then got on with their tasks, two of them cutting up plant-animal stalks and bleeding them ready for burning. Another ork, larger than the rest, was playing with its knife, idly throwing it into an unfortunate example of Kalidar’s wildlife pinned to the floor before it. It growled something in the deep clatter the orks had for speech. One of those arguing stepped forwards, rearing up a little, hunched shoulders unbending, but its comrade threw a long arm across its chest and shook its head. The big ork, the leader, grumbled something at them and laughed, then went back to its desultory tortures.

  ‘Damn them,’ whispered Bruta. He, Bannick, Olli and two other inhabitants of Scumtown hunkered down to the rear of the ork camp, twenty or so more sandscum waiting up the tunnel on the other side of the xenos. Olli had insisted on accompanying Bannick, his long rifle out and ready. ‘If they’re here,’ continued Bruta. ‘They’re too close to town. Chances are, they’ve found it already.’

  Half a kilometre behind, back the way they’d come, the transit tunnel had been ruptured by an earthquake in the distant past. Through a series of crevices and worm-tubes, the city of the sandscum could easily be reached.

  ‘Where does this line go?’ asked Bannick.

  ‘It’s a spur, not been used since the abandonment of the hive construction project,’ said Bruta. ‘The end of it we blew a long time ago, it should be choked by rubble.’

  ‘But they’re in, so I ask again, where does it go?’

  ‘Eventually?’ said Bruta grudgingly. ‘Right into the heart of Orktown. Right into Hive Meradon, a hundred and fifty kilometres away.’

  ‘These types,’ Bannick said. ‘They’re commandoes of some kind, scouts. The same kind attacked our camp a few weeks ago, staging a raid that crippled the command Leviathan. If they get an inkling you are down here, they’ll go back for more of their kind. We have to kill them now.’

  ‘If they haven’t found the entrance to the town…’

  ‘They soon will, or others like them will, look.’ Bannick pointed to a pair of strange, brightly coloured snuffling creatures tethered to a rock. ‘Scent beasts. I reckon they already know you are here.’

  Bruta snorted, lips twisted in thought. ‘You are right,’ he said eventually. ‘We’ll do this quickly and quietly, the sandscum way.’ He turned to the men with them. ‘Olli, Branka, Suumsta, you stay here with the lieutenant. Listen to what he says, it might save you. Bannick, once we’ve begun firing, outflank them, take them by surprise, and we’ll cut them down in a crossfire. Don’t let any of them escape or we’re all dead.’ He patted Bannick on the shoulder and withdrew.

  One of the scent beasts became agitated and started to strain in the direction of Bannick’s hiding place, the other taking up its calls of alarm. Bannick’s breath caught as the big ork looked right at him. For a moment he thought he’d been seen, but the ork returned its attention to the creature on the floor. It toed it with a steel-capped boot. Dead. It got up and kicked the yapping scent beast, which slunk low and whimpered.

  From his vantage point, Bannick saw an ork sentry go down, two men burying long knives in its neck, sawing and pulling back until its head came off. Sandscum filtered out past its twitching corpse, taking up firing positions, ready to engage the orks, opening up the rear to Bannick’s men.

  Bruta appeared, raised his hand, looked to his men. He dropped it, and they opened fire.

  Primitive autoguns spat bullets streaking towards the orks. Their guns were feeble things compared to the las-weaponry of the guard, but their aim was good, and two of the orks were sent sprawling, holes drilled in their skulls, before they could react. The big ork bellowed orders, and the orks formed a circle, throwing themselves down against the walls of the sandy depression containing their camp and opening up with their large-calibre guns. A pair of them set up a large stubber-like weapon on a tripod. The gun efficiently deployed, the ork loader knocked its comrade on the helmet, and it let rip. The sand in front of Bruta’s group exploded in a series of dust explosions as the orks played their heavy gun back and forth across the transit way. Several sandscum fell, the tunnel raucous with gunfire and screams.

  ‘That makes things difficult,’ said Bannick. He waved the sandscum forwards. ‘Olli, how far can you kill with that rifle?’

  Olli grasped his long-barrelled weapon to his chest and pointed at himself eagerly. ‘Long, long way. Olli best shot in town.’

  ‘Then get up on that rock there.’ Bannick pointed out a large boulder stone slumped in from the side of the transit tunnel. ‘Keep them guessing where you are. Pick them off, go for the ones engaged with Bruta. Take out the leader first, then the heavy gunner. Headshots only, nothing else seems to drop them. Open fire at my signal.’

  Olli nodded eagerly and hurried off, casting excited glances in the direction of the orks.

  ‘You two, follow me,’ he said to the others, and they set off at a loping run, bodies low, making a wide circuit round the edge of the clearing in the tunnel, heading for a pile of rocks where their weapons would be in range. They threw themselves behind the rockpile. Bannick risked a quick look over the edge. Two more of Bruta’s men were down, another ork lay twitching. That left eleven greenskins to twenty sandscum. The situati
on was a stalemate, both humans and orks pinned in place by each other’s fire. For now the humans still outnumbered the xenos, but the orks were levelling the odds.

  Bannick looked up to Olli’s position. The wiry mutant was pressed against the rock, rifle out and ready, almost invisible in the gloom.

  ‘You two, as soon as Olli kills that gunner, the orks will notice we’re here. When I say, give them everything you’ve got. We’ve got to take their numbers down and stop them from engaging us at close quarters. Understood?’

  The two sandscum nodded.

  ‘Right.’ Bannick looked back to Olli, and waved a hand.

  Immediately, the mutant hunkered down over his rifle sight, taking his time. Sure of his target, he fired a single shot.

  The report of Olli’s gun was lost in the chatter of the ork’s stubber. Bannick watched as the big ork stopped in mid-shout and slumped forwards against the sandbank it sheltered behind. Quickly, before the others noticed, Olli fired again, and another ork’s brains scattered across the sand.

  The noise of the stubber abruptly shut off, the orks realising that they’d been outflanked. One stupidly raised its head. Fire from four sandscum autoguns riddled it, making it dance to their clatter.

  Eight orks left.

  The sandscum on Bruta’s side tried to move forwards, but were driven back by bullets.

  Two of the beasts were gesturing at Olli. He’d been spotted. They rolled over the berm and scooted along the transit tunnel floor.