Ch.3 Complicated Situation
"From the Commisarriat office of Ber'allis"
Nathaniel Darrin Tarkus was dishonorably discharged from the order of the Commisarriat after being found guilty of cowardice on the field of battle at Ber'allis Secundus. With the death of the acting commander of the regiment Tarkus was given command with the first order that of a frontal assault (as a diversion while the base was attacked from underground) on the most heavily fortified Ork fortress of the system. Seeing the order as a death sentence on the whole regiment, Tarkus refused the order and had his men hold the line. While this action prevented the total lose of the planet after the failed assault, Tarkus was stripped of his title and sentenced to death. We still have no idea why the Inquisitor had him freed, or why he had him reinstated as a Commissar, hell we don't even know what he was doing in that system in the first place...
Tarkus weaved his way through the crowded streets with the ease of one born on a hive world, trying not to feel out of place in the worn out old uniform. The night sky was almost drowned out by the numerous street lights and building windows, turning the night into more of a twilight. The place was abustle with the kind of night life one only found on a hive, the smell of good food and gambling billowing out of the drinking houses along with those who had drank a bit much. He enjoyed the atmosphere of the place, savoring the peace and happiness while it lasted. Things such as that never lasted when his boss was called in.
Tarkus stopped at one of the street vendors long enough to buy a strange smelling cup of what he hoped was alcohol before going on his way, not that he had a particular one in mind. The Inquisitor had been more than a little troubled by the time he had slammed the door shut on Tarkus and Dana, muttering something about needing privacy and not liking the way Tarkus's clothing smelled. He had taken that as permission to wander, not for the first time finding himself without orders while the boss's mind was elsewhere. He sipped his drink and tried his best not to let his mind return to the nervous state it had been in since they had been given word of the new course set on the ship.
He wasn't sure if the feeling in his stomach was just dread or maybe left over pain from the hasty evacuation of his bowls on the ship, but neither thought pleased him overly much. Something bad was going on in Sheroka Hive, he could feel it in his laxative tortured guts. Tarkus peered up at the tallest spire of the Hive, wondering nervously if his Boss had found out anything useful from Delphios. Or if he'd even have the presence of mind to remember if he had.
The idle conjecture was interrupted painfully as a fist pounded into Tarkus's kidney painfully, driving the breath from the Commissar in a whooping gasp. Though odd and painful, the greeting had become as familiar to him as the girl from whom it had come. Still clutching his inflamed side, Tarkus turned and smiled his thanks at Twerp for the kind hello. She silently laughed at his obvious discomfort and patted his back like a mother comforting a baby. He jokingly pushed her away and waited for his kidney to hurt a bit less before going on.
She was clad in a blue dress bottom and light green blouse now, the kind Durmont's house staff wore. She had been successful in her hunt it seamed, he thought with a smirk. To some one her age she would probably been quite pretty, if they could get pasted the shaved head and silence. Her icy blue eyes always looked wide and curios, fitting well with her personality. Maybe someday if she wasn't killed on one of Ignatius's missions she'd find a nice boy and settle down, Tarkus found himself wanting that for her. She deserved a nice life after what she'd been through.
"Anything from Ignatius?" He asked, trying to keep the doom out of his voice. Twerp shook her head pleasantly and walked on, forcing him to follow to her skipping pace. He sighed and shook his head to clear it. "Why are you out here then?" She raised an eye brow and pointed back at him, a tilted smile forming. Why are you? She was asking. He conceded the point with an upraised hand and chuckled. Neither of them should really be so far away with such seemingly important business on the horizon. They walked on in friendly silence, one mute and the other content to remain silent when he got the chance.
They had only gotten a few streets down when Twerp stopped suddenly, Tarkus bumping into her in surprise. She turned to him with a deep frown and began looking around frantically. He knew better than to second guess the girl's keen instincts for trouble, which had saved his hide more than once. Tarkus followed suit, his eyes picking out every detail of the crowd of people milling about around them.
"What is it?" He asked in a whisper, hand falling comfortingly over the holster clip of his battered old hand flammer. The weapon had been a gift from an Adapta Sororitas in thanks for his service against the Tyranids on Twerp's home world. Along with his bolt pistol the weapon had seen more than a fair share of battle in the few years he had owned it.
Twerp shook her head vigorously, reaching into one of the pockets of her dress and producing a small civilian issue las pistol. She didn't know what was going on she was saying, but it was about to get bad. Tarkus had no idea where she had found a weapon but he was glad she had, especially if things were about to go south. No sooner had he finished the thought than an orange light flared behind him and a wave of heat covered his back. Before he had a chance to turn the explosion lifted him from his feet in an ear shattering boom and deposited him face first into one of the stone walls of a building.
Twerp was on her feet first, eyes wild with surprise and anger. Tarkus pulled himself up and saw the smoking ruins of the building he had been standing near belching up flames and chunks of blackened rockrete. All around civilians ran in terror and screamed almost high enough to out do the inferno raging before them. Tarkus drew his hand flamer and bolt pistol in a single well practiced movement, not even sure where to aim in the hectic fray of bodies. A las shot whizzed by his head suddenly, blasting a hole in the wall by his head. Before he had a chance to return fire at the unseen attacker Twerp popped off a shot, aiming down her extended arm like an expert duelist.
"Come out Emperor damn you!" Tarkus bellowed, lungs trained by years in the schools of the Commissariat. He charged head long down the street in the direction the shot had come from, relieved that most of the civilians had finally cleared the area. As he ran he caught sight of his targets, running full speed into on of the side alleys. There were three of them, all cloaked and hooded in black and running faster than a Gretchin from a nob. He dashed into the alley after them, outpaced by both the Assailants and Twerp. She was running silently, arm held steady as she ran and pouring a salvo of wild fire at the three as she went.
"In the name of," Tarkus wheezed as he doggedly chased after them, but didn't have the wind to finish. Damn they were fast, and Twerp was putting him to shame too. They were too fast for him, he realised with shame. He skidded to a halt and re-holstered his hand flamer, calling out to Twerp. "Ground!" Twerp fell flat on the ground in mid step, like she had expected the command the whole time. With her out of the way Tarkus squinted down the barrel of his old bolt pistol, tracing the rapidly distancing form of the closest attacker.
The gun barked once, the muzzle flash blinding Tarkus for a split second. At first he had thought his shot a miss, not hearing a scream. But looking down the now deserted alley he found the prone form one of the cloaked figures on the cold ground. Twerp caught up with him as he ran to the body, eyes darting into each of the shadows and crevices as they went. Tarkus flipped the downward facing body with his boot and grimaced. Bolt pistols had a nasty habit of exploding the head when it was hit, leaving little by which to identify the body. He crouched low to inspect the mess, reaching a hand into the dead man's pocket for evidence but coming up empty.
"Friend of yours?" Tarkus yelped, actually yelped at the closeness of the voice. He whirled around and met the cackling face of his Boss, who was infinitely pleased at having scared him. He shouldn't have been surprised really, Ignatius had popped up in unexpected places for as long as their had been an Ignatius around. And he could be very, very quite when he wanted to be.
"This unlucky bastard just blew up that whole building," Tarkus muttered, kicking the ruined corpse in the chest to emphasize his point. Jarring something loose with his kick Tarkus was too late to avoid the arterial spray that shot out of the headless stump and splattered his shirt and pants. His face turned beat red, matching the blood with his unspoken anger. Twerp and Ignatius laughed for close to half an hour before either could muster the control to stop.
"Oh yes," The Inquisitor finally spoke with a laughter induced pant. "It would seem the Hive is under attack." He said it as though he were mentioning something trivial, and as far as Ignatius was concerned it probably was.
"Of course it is," Tarkus groaned, wiping a piece of brain off his shirt and flicking it away. "Of course..."
-
Dana screamed in terror as the damnable shuttle rushed for the ground, fire covering both windows of the back compartment. The pilot had only enough time to shout in confusion before the missile or whatever it was rocketed into the side of the transport, knocking Dana out of her seat and bashing her head against the window. The ground was becoming closer and closer even as it spun in the window, while Dana pin balled sickeningly back and forth from the transports wild movement.
She had just wanted to get a damn file for Durmont! Just go to the archives quickly and get me the paper, he had said. Shouldn't take more than an hour! She made a resolution as she was rag dolled in the small space, if she survived she was quiting the Governor's service.
Blindly Dana grasped for something as she was tossed once more, and her hand clasped frantically on the harness she wished she had been wearing when the damn missile hit! blood was running down her face from the impact of her window headbutt as she wrenched herself back into the seat harness and snapped the buckle before she lost her grip. Before she had a chance to sigh the transport finally hit the ground, or more accurately the side of a building then the ground. She never felt it, her mind going dark as her head whip lashed in the harness...
The first thing she noticed when she woke was that she was upside down. The second was that her stomach was apparently not empty, she heaved onto the ceiling pathetically waving her arms to keep them away from the stream. With that finished she lolled her head around to get a better view. The transport was on fire, or something else was filling it with smoke. Her eyes squeezed shut as she fiddled with the buckle that kept her on what was now the ceiling. With a click and another scream the mechanism released and she fell onto her head, thankfully missing the puddle of vomit.
"What's going on?" She cried, tears running down her smoke stained cheeks as she scrabbled to the shattered window of the transport. None of it made sense, who would shoot down a government transport? Her body was aching in ways she had never believed possible, especially her head and neck. Trying her best to ignore the shards of glass that scraped her as she went, Dana pulled herself out of the twisted wreck of the transport and lay on the cold ground for a moment.
Nothing had ever felt as good in her life as that cold rock did on her cheek, so soothing after the pain and heat of the crash. In all her life of documents and micromanagement, this was the first instance of real pain she had ever felt. And if she could at all help it, the last. Mustering her strength Dana lifted her head and glanced back at the transport, squinting at the smoke that poured from it. The pilot's section of the shuttle was almost completely gone, pounded into oblivion by whatever had hit them. No hope for another survivor, not with that wreck.
"Help," She croaked, her throat parched and rasping painfully. But there was no one around, an almost impossible occurrence in a hive city. She had crashed into the square between four towering buildings, leaving a deep rivet in the wall of the one she had hit before coming to rest near the center. And on one could be seen, every road connecting to the square was empty and every window dark. But there was sound, she picked it up bit by bit as she drug herself slowly and painfully away from the flaming ruin. It was a sound she had heard, but only rarely and almost always on a holo story or news showing, the piercing snap of las fire.
Her mind was reeling, too much to process at once. Who shot her down? Who was shooting? Where was everyone? She pressed her hands gently against her temples and sobbed, too sore to move but afraid to remain in the open. Her leg was broken, that much she could tell for sure. Anything else was just guess work, as her whole body was aching furiously. The rapid click clack of booted feet from one of the roads brought her head up.
Should she call out and risk being shot, or wait and see who it was and risk not being able to call out in time? The decision was made for her as a figure bolted out of the night's darkness and skidded to a stop, standing right over ever it was he was tall, she thought woozily as her mind and body began to betray her. The man crouched down and scooped her up as though she were weightless.
"Surprises abound miss Printes!" Ignatius greeted her cheerily as he stood. Before he could say anything more Tarkus and Twerp ran around the corner he had come from, a hail of las fire following them closely. "Ah yes, we were running weren't we?" He asked as the two ran past him without a moment hesitation. He giggled with glee as he ran to catch up, the path virtually lit by las fire for them. "Will you be," He started to ask, but noticing that Dana had already fainted simply shrugged and kept up the run. "Shhh!" He screamed scoldingly at the dozens of cloaked attackers chasing them. "She's sleeping!" His cackle echoed for miles as they ran on.