Disclaimer – I do not own Warhammer etc.
Hello everyone. This is my first fanfic. It's on the Great Crusade, except it starts from the beginning of it. Feel free to critique, I do appreciate it a lot. Enjoy...
I hope.
Planet Sayre. I once heard that some Ancient messiah of Bon Jovi landed here and named it the planet of Rock. But was ten thousand years ago – give or take, back in the good old twentieth millennium. The number made my head boggle. But now?
I swore as I stumbled over a piece of rusting trash. The sound echoed through the deserted streets of Ginas outskirts, the capital of Sayre. Heads turned, some familiar, some from other orphanages. I kept my eyes down.
It was now really just the planet of rocks, I thought, as I straightened myself. Only a few out-towns clung to its barren surface now, as well as a few uncharted pirate and rebel settlements. The ice-cutting stations didn't count – those were just a few people who were desperate enough to make a living on the northern ice cap by slicing gigantic blocks of ice up and selling the water to the towns. Apart from the Great Subterranean Water Belt, there were no other water sources on parched Sayre. It was Jovi's will whether the taps ran in Ginas on any given day.
As for water, I was getting really thirsty. Slung on my right shoulder was a water bottle, which bumped and swung as I walked. My hand closed around it for the hundredth time, feeling yet again how pathetically light it was. Barely five mouthfuls, it was, and I had already taken three. I tried reminding myself that I would need it for the way back, but by Jovi – I was aching for water!
I tried to discourage myself by reminding myself that the decades-old bottle had seen dozens of mouths. But I didn't find that distasteful, unlike some people. As long as they didn't foul up the water I was fine.
But it was all the damn Tyrant's fault. My lip curled. Tyrant Richard the 30th, or was it the 31st? I was never good at my numbers. The Ancient nickname 'Dick' was more apt than they had thought. I didn't say that out loud, of course, since that was asking to get my mouth scrubbed.
At least they got something right... I groused to myself. Things were, ten thousand years ago they had left my home a chemical wasteland, and rumour had it that they had started slinging Quake-fire around to seal the deal. Nobody knew what the dreaded Quake-fire was any more, but it had something to do with mushrooms; so every time we came across any of those unnatural dark-loving plants we made sure we killed them dead.
The Tyrant would love to get his hands on the Quake-fire, what ever it was. He was low enough to do that, I knew. Well, he'd certainly stoop to dragging kids into his Planetary Defence 'Volunteers' Service, or PDS for short.
It was just my misfortune that I was one of those hapless bastards.
And bastards we were, in the most literal sense. All of us recently conscripted were from the orphanages, from the ages fifteen to eighteen, to swell the ranks of the Tyrant's military might to fight the so-called 'Imperium of Man'. Bloody hell, I just had to be fifteen this year. If I had been found a year later, I'd still be in the orphanage.
So, with no parents to shield us, the Tyrant had found the job of rounding us up an absurdly easy one. The shocked protests of our masters and matrons were casually brushed aside, and we were hauled out of our beds – both girls and boys. I still remember shivering on the big courtyard outside the orphanage, surrounded by my stunned mates – all of us in bedclothes to face the pre-dawn freeze. By Jovi, I'd never forget how old Mother Hubble cried and wailed as they herded us into the trucks, to be taken away to the PDS barracks. I'd remember her face to my dying day.
By my reckoning, it had been more than half a year since my conscription – fat load of good that had been. I liked to use my old bolt-action rifle as a staff to lean on, since I found carrying it to be tiring. It also hurt to walk. The boots I had been issued were oversized, and the heel had split on the right. My pants were covered in patches, sewn by my fraying stitching that came apart in a week. Honestly, how were we supposed to fight those fabled 'space marines'?
That was why were trudging through these deserted ruins in Ginas outskirts, looking for 'those guys' who were the news of the sector. Hell, everything people were talking about these days was somehow related to 'those guys'. I heard from my friend Fryec that they were ten-feet tall. I shuddered as I looked up and tried to visualise it. They would be nearly twice my height.
We had been patrolling for nearly five hours; the sun was nearly setting to the south-east. Five damn hours of kicking up bone-dry dirt and crumbling refuse, peering into the gaping windows of abandoned houses. As time passed, those hollow windows and doors seemed to become laughing faces, each taunting us with their memories of the better times they had seen, when food had been plentiful, the water had been clean, and most importantly, there was no Jovi-cursed Tyrant lording over us.
Jovi damn that clap-ridden mongrel! He taxed, he pillaged, he raped, he stole – then he taxed again. He liked to flaunt his wealth as well, holding open-air banquets in full view up in his towering Spike to the ever-hungry people of Ginas. Didn't he know that just made us hate him even more? He didn't care probably, or perhaps he just enjoyed taunting us.
I certainly detested that idiot. Jovi would be waiting for him in the afterlife with the most painfully discordant guitar he had, that I was sure. Every time there was news of the latest rebel raid, I cheered them on in my head. They seemed to be coming out more and more, no doubt spoiling for a fight now that 'those guys' were coming for the Tyrant's head. I yearned to join the rebels, but I also dreaded the possibility of running into them. We were in the Tyrant's uniforms – they would most likely shoot us on sight!
A sharp crack to the head popped that bubble of thoughts abruptly, making me drop my rifle. I swore, and turned around.
Bloody Grevan! A torrent of insults began to surface in my throat, but I quickly stifled that notion. I was angry, but tried not to show it. It would only urge that sadistic bastard on, and I was still fifteen – getting rowdy with a flabby man-mountain like Sergeant Grevan who probably weighed two-hundred kilos was plain stupid. It would be a quick way out of the PDS, I mused – but in a coffin.
I quickly squashed that thought. I tried not to glare up at the furious sergeant. I hated this man just as much as I hated the Tyrant. To me, he was everything that was wrong with Sayre.
"Yeah...sergeant?" I adopted a whining parody of his voice, doing my utmost to make his title seem like an insult.
I slouched and shuffled, scuffing my boots in the dirt. I just couldn't help it – some part of me just needed to get under people's skin. But by Jovi, I had the bruises to show for it.
Grevan's face got even redder, hell – I didn't think that was possible. He loomed over me, the stink of ethano clear in his breath. I wrinkled my nose, it was all sour and fetid. He bent his head towards mine, spraying me with spittle.
"Recruit Solas Listern, just because you came from the city gutters doesn't mean you SLACK – OFF!" he snarled, grabbing the rifle and slamming it into my hands. I winced as it cracked into knuckles. They felt like they were on fire.
He had been drinking again, heavily. I clamped my mouth shut, biting back an angry retort. Grevan's violent ways simply got worse with the bottle. But hell, I hated people using my full name. 'Listern' sounded something from a toilet. My parents, whoever they were, must have been drunk or crazy when they had scrawled that name on the box that I was found in. If I'm to be called anything, call me Lister. Everyone did.
"One more time, you brat... One more time of this grox-shit job of soldiering and you're off to the Lobotomy Ward! I won't say it again, recruit!" he roared.
The sergeant's hand lashed out, landing a heavy blow on my cheek. I cried out, struggling to rein my temper. He spun, searching out another recruit among the spread-out platoon of my orphanage mates. Looking at his turned back, I suddenly considered putting a bullet in his back. My hands tightened around my rifle.
I froze. No, no, I was too afraid to try. What if I failed? He'd kill me on the spot. No, no, maybe someone else might do it...
"There! Recruit Dell, this is also for you! I got news, you two useless bastards!" the sergeant crowed, madness entering his voice. He pointed at a slender, dark-haired girl that I only knew by name. She had stopped in fright, hugging her rifle instinctively. The rest of the platoon moved on, too scared to stop.
"Our lord Tyrant needs servitors! I read this –" he began.
"You can read?" I muttered under my breath. His head snapped around, eyes bulging. Grevan took a menacing step towards me, and I scuttled away, head down.
He spat. "I'll deal with you later, you little pissant! But hear this: all unsatisfactory recruits will be reprocessed into servitors. Six months and you're still useless! Shape up or ship out! If you ain't up to the job of kicking those fancy space marines into orbit, you'll make nice sanitary servitors! Ha!"
His multiple red jowls shook and wobbled madly as he continued his tirade. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dell flinch. She was a good recruit, she was diligent and worked hard – but she couldn't handle guns from what little I had seen of her.
Hell, she didn't deserve a lobotomy. Neither did I for that matter. I stood still as my brain went through what would happen.
We'd be carted off to a nameless factory in black trucks with hundreds of other unfortunates, shackled and gagged. It was said that they injected some sort of chemical into you that made you nearly choke – some of the tyrant's men were sick enough to do that. So, with your last real moments of life spent nearly choking, they would – they would...
I nearly gagged. Grevan noticed, and his mouth curled ever so slightly.
Well, they would stick a stiff wire above your eye-ball, at the top of the eye-socket. Then...oh Jovi – they would hammer it in, into the deep pulsings of the brain, cutting and tearing. Then...then it would be moved around inside in a horribly precise pattern, so as to not kill the 'patient', but to take away what made them a Jovi-loving person, what made them truly them.
That was what I heard, anyway. But it was gruesome enough to evoke a deep terror in me. Servitors were also known as ghouls to some of the more superstitious folk, as they had no soul. Worst of all, it was rumoured if the butchers didn't do their job properly, the soul didn't leave properly. I shuddered, and so did Recruit Dell – at least I wasn't alone.
The sergeant's mouth continued to turn, morphing into a triumphant sneer. He had got us there, and he knew it.
Suddenly, I felt something red and hot wash over my vision. I guess the idiot gene was hereditary, because I opened my fool mouth to say something back.
Years on, I'd look back at this as the best and worst decision of my life. No, probably my worst.
"What? Cos' you quit your diet? Buddy, I'm so sorry – you'll have to lobotomise all of us for the sewers to cope now!" I jeered.
It just came out. I didn't know why, but I certainly didn't want it to.
Jovi wasn't looking over me at that moment. My voice carried, slipping between the steady beat of trudging boots – straight into the ears of the entire platoon. A quiet ripple of laughter went through my normally despondent platoon. I was known as somewhat of a joker, always getting in trouble but getting away with it lightly.
Not today.
To my dismay, it was unnoticed by the now-apoplectic Grevan. He seemed to swell, and I felt the storm-cloud of his anger press against me. Too late, I realised that this time, I had gone too far. Not good! Dell, the shy girl, dropped her rifle. Her legs were trembling.
Something snapped in the sergeant. He straightened up, almost stately in manner, as if immensely satisfied with himself. I felt my heart plummet.
Surely not... I whispered to myself. Surely he wouldn't...
He smiled expansively and pulled out a black notebook, jotting down something in it. To my horror, I saw what it was.
That was his leave book. Except we never got any sort of leave, apart from the kind where one of us went away in a body bag, never to be seen again. 'Training accidents', Grevan called them. He would sign them off, and go straight to the dead kid's bunk to take all his belongings.
"Friendly fire on a live fire exercise at Ginas outskirts. Recruits Dell and Listern will be most sorely missed," he announced.
The notebook closed with a final snap. To me, that was my neck breaking.
I strangled my rifle in shock. Dell started crying. Grevan checked his chrono and grinned at us, sharp teeth in his mouth. He loaded his pistol.
"I'll enjoy this. Thirty seconds. Run – not that it'll help you."
That sick, sick bastard.
I needed no urging to start pelting away. I had my gun, some water – I could survive. For a while at least. But mine were the only running feet I heard. By Jovi, what the hell was that girl doing?
I turned back – and Dell was just sitting there, wringing her hands and sobbing. I paused, not knowing what to do.
She'd slow me down! If I took her, I'd lose all the lead I got!
Help or run? I couldn't decide, Jovi damn it!
I frantically juggled the options in my head. Most of me felt like running, since –
No, that's what Grevan would do! I wasn't a twisted monster! I wasn't a heartless bastard!
So I ran back to her and hauled her to her feet. She felt so thin under my hands. But there was a comforting warmth to her, a defiant spark of life. Almost instantly, I felt that I had to protect her.
'Knight in shining armour, is that what you are, Lister?' the cynical part of me sneered. I angrily stamped it down. I was doing what any decent person would do!
"We're grox-hash if we stay here!" I yelled into her ear.
Her head bobbed up and down jerkily. I took that as a yes. Her rifle lay on the ground.
"Pick it up! Come on, hurry!"
Twenty seconds left. Grevan was pistol-whipping the kids, cowing them into submission.
Dell fumbled and dropped her gun. In my panic, I just tugged her along, pushing her further out towards the outskirts. I gave her a final shove as I came to a halt.
I knew that we had lost too much time. Dell continued running, but she was slowing as she realised I wasn't alongside her. I turned back to the gloating sergeant, taking faltering two steps towards him.
Ten seconds left. An idea popped up in my head. It was something I had always wanted to do, short of killing that bastard. It was insane, but it was inspired.
Time for one last insult. Old habits die, but by Jovi, they die hard!
"Sergeant, I wanted to say something. I love you!" I said.
And I kicked him squarely in the balls. I willed every ounce of hatred in that kick, as if I would kick so hard as to force his clap-ridden testicles out of his mouth. Then I spun round, not looking back at my handiwork.
I pulled at Dell, and we both high-tailed it out of there. Oh well, you can't get everything in life. But the choked squealing was enough. One look at Dell told me she felt the same. A tiny smile flitted over her frightened features. Good on her!
I took one look back at my old friends, who stood in a confused rabble, mouths agape. I think Fryec was trying to cheer me on, but Holdern had his hand over his mouth. I wasn't too sure about that, with all the bumping and jolting as we ran.
But one thing was clear.
They all had grins as wide as the desert. Because one of them was getting always from the PDS, and that fellow was me!
…...
Filled with elation, we plunged deeper into the ruins. Dell and I never slacked off once, too intent on escape to even notice our aching muscles. But Jovi damn, we were free! The wind whipped across our faces, blown in by the wild, untamed deserts.
For a moment, I thought we could go anywhere.
With a wince, I heard Grevan's titanic roar of rage. I shot a wide-eyed look at Dell, which she returned with equal alarm. The sound of our running feet became louder as we strove to put as much distance as possible between the platoon and us.
Game on then! Inside, I cringed though. We had to shift our bodies – out-run an entire platoon of our old orphanage mates. They only had to shift their bullets into us. I gritted my teeth in anger as we ran. There were more than enough toadies in the platoon who were willing to kiss Grevan's arse, even if it meant filling us with lead.
Hell, at least I knew Fryec and Holdern would be aiming the other way. Friends always counted for something. But something was nagging me.
"Dell...you – did – have – friends – yeah?" I gasped out, rounding a corner. My feet skidded on the gravel.
Despite our plight, she managed to shoot me an incredulous glance.
"Yeah!" she managed to say. Her face was flushing red. I could feel the sweat running down my face.
Our heads snapped back together as the tramp of running feet echoed down the streets.
"Oh hell," I spat.
I tugged at Dell's sleeve, pulling her into the alleys. We ducked and weaved, now trying to outfox the platoon. We could never outrun them!
We suddenly ducked as the bullets started flying. I crashed through piles of flimsy wooden crates, clearing a path for Dell. Jovi damn – ow! Splinters stuck into me, drawing blood! Hell, what did I do to deserve this?
Crack – crack – crack!
The shots were wild, but each one was like a stab straight through my heart. It really tore me to actually see my mates shoot at me. Fryec and Holdern – I knew that they weren't the shooters. But I thought I had been on good terms with the rest of them! So much for friendship, bloody hell!
The alley opened up into a wide road. I swore, and Dell and I skidded to a halt.
Frantically, I scanned the area. Hell, running through such an exposed area was just asking to get shot –
Bang!
We jumped. A shower of dust scattered onto my shoulders. Looking up, I saw a perfectly round bullet hole in the wall.
That could have me! No time for thinking now!
"By Jovi – run!" I yelled, pulling at Dell.
We sprinted down the wide road. It was lined with Ancient ruins. Jovi damn, that meant we were getting close to the edge of Ginas! If we could just keep running a little further...
My platoon started shooting, having come out of the alleys. We twisted and bobbed, trying to dodge that hail of lead. Dell was flagging by now.
It was all my fault. If I hadn't mouthed off at Grevan, perhaps she wouldn't be running for her life. I knew that if she died, it would be her blood on my hands.
"Come on Dell!" I gasped, pushing at her. "Let's get to that building there!"
I ran behind her, to push her – to shield her. I got her into this mess, the least I could do was to get her out!
We screamed as someone opened up with auto fire. One of the recruits had an Ancient autogun! Hell, how could I have forgotten? Puffs of dirt exploded all around us. A torrent of slugs poured into the wall beside us, reducing ten-thousand year old graffiti to dust. Somehow, none of us was hit.
The fire slacked a little. Thank Jovi autoguns had to reload! We quickly hared into one of the buildings.
Through the windows, I saw that the rest of the pack was fast catching up, goaded by a howling Grevan. I ducked as a stray bullet flew in.
"Jovi help us," I snarled desperately, keeping down.
I hurriedly scanned the floor, looking for things to block the windows. Bloody hell, I knew where we were.
This was an Ancient Tech-temple!
Despite our predicament, Dell was staring at the ground with disgust. And damn right she should be! Around us lay dusty old cogitators, dozens of them – all filthy thinking machines!
With a shudder, I picked up the first cogitator. Let them take the fire! I shuffled up and down the room we were in, ducking under the zipping bullets. I unslung my rifle, sliding it over to Dell.
"Shoot them back!" I hollered. My throat stopped at what I just said. "I mean – don't really shoot them, just make it look like we are!"
She slid over to the gun, picking it up with trembling hands. As soon as she touched it I knew the gun would never fire in her hands. Jovi damn it!
Shaking my head at the sheer unfairness of what was happening, I heaved the last cogitator into place. Through a small gap, I noticed that something odd was happening.
Some of them weren't shooting, even when Grevan screamed at them until spit flew. My heart soared, and immediately plummeted. One of them, I think it was Marc – he dropped his rifle, shaking his head stubbornly.
I groaned. Bloody hell, he'd get it from –
Grevan whipped his pistol out. Jovi – no – no!
Suddenly, a scintillating red beam screeched out of the gun. The charred ruin of Marc slumped to the ground, chest all but gone. Sickened, I turned away from the window, offering a prayer for Marc's soul. I bumped into Dell, her brown eyes wide.
"We're gonna die, aren't we?" she asked, on the verge of tears.
I stared hard into her eyes.
"Don't...don't ever give up, Dell. If we keep running maybe they'll give up."
What a lie. It sounded false even as it left my tongue.
The fire picked up, the platoon firing even more rapidly in terror – not even waiting for their guns to cool. We huddled on the ground as the world disintegrated around us. I felt Dell's shoulders shake as she started sobbing, and my gut clenched in fear.
Grevan had a laser pistol! That was the worst of the worst!
Slowly, I dragged Dell behind the altar. There we cowered, too afraid to move. The sound of guns firing gradually became louder and louder as Grevan realised we weren't shooting back.
Why wouldn't they just shoot Grevan? I raged silently.
I gritted my teeth. I'd shoot the bastard! I'll do it, if no one else was going to!
I snatched my rifle back from Dell. I mumbled a quick prayer to Jovi, and tensed my legs, rising.
And stopped. I couldn't do it! Bullets whined and ricocheted. I was too scared. Too much of a coward.
I turned to Dell, shame burning in my heart.
"Sorry I got you into this," I said sadly. "Never meant for you to get hurt."
The shaking stopped. She looked up at me.
"Ain't your fault," she whispered, and that was all.
I tried to get up and shoot once more. Again, my courage failed me. In the end, I settled on slowly edging my rifle up onto the altar, flat on the top. In desperation, I started pulling the trigger, hoping to scare them off.
I didn't dare to get up and aim. I felt a shot pass just over my fingers, and I bit back a scream.
This was the end.
We glanced at each other, and in mute agreement began singing a prayer to Bon Jovi, an old song called 'Livin' on a Prayer'. The words fitted our hopeless plight.
Out of the blue, a monstrous roar replaced the shooting. Curiosity overcame fear, and we peeked over the pummelled altar, brushing away a crumbling yellow sign that read: SALE! 50 PERCENT OFF ALL COMP –
A garishly painted, armoured truck skidded into view! By Jovi – was I seeing things? I rubbed my eyes in disbelief.
The truck sprayed Grevan's lot with stubber fire. I hoped fervently that Fryec and Holdern weren't hit. I heard a panicky shout: 'Retreat!'
The small cheer that formed in our throats died unborn as we saw the figures that tumbled out of the truck. Rough clothes, strips of rag and ammunition straps; and many, many guns. I suddenly had a very bad feeling about who they were.
We ducked back under the altar. We held our breaths, hoping that they would pass us by.
Silence.
Slowly, carefully, I peered around the corner. There was...no one!
Where the hell were they?
I shot a glance behind us. No one there. I looked at Dell; she gave me a confused shrug. Her tears were drying, but she still looked worried.
We looked over the altar. Same result.
Then we heard a deep voice behind us. We froze.
"Well, well, what 'ave we 'ere? Two runaways? Can't 'ave tha', can we? Take 'em, girls n' boys."
The last thought that crossed my mind when the tranquilizer hit was something about jumping from frying pans into fires.
They were pirates.
As some of my original readers might have realised, this is not the same as the original first chapter. I hope you like it better – it gives more depth to the planet and characters in my opinion. I will continue altering the next chapters as well. I'll repeat again, I'm not too much of a grimdark guy – this is 30K after all!