Series I - Von Guyen
Episode VI - Executioner
Third Captain Jarfur of the White Knights has proposed a new theory: Samovar von Guyen is commanding the Tau using powers given to him by the Dark Gods. Although he went over Master Grimfist's head in proposing it to Chief Librarian Farus, there is evidence to support it. Farus has explained that von Guyen was sent to Ulis to recover the Casket of Tears, an ancient artefact of Chaos. Now it seems to have corrupted him. It appears he is far more dangerous than originally thought. This is ominous news for the White Knights, but it is even worse news for the squad of Imperial Guardsmen assigned to track him down.
Corporal Verrel was first into the hospital. He led the four Guardsmen under his command up the stone steps towards the entrance. Torches were mounted on their chests and blazed through the darkness. Their las-rifles were raised and ready. One by one, they cycled the single-person airlock to decontaminate themselves and stepped through into the gloom of the tall lobby. Verrel unclipped his surveyor and scanned the room.
"No contacts," he said. "Stand easy."
"Well," Trooper Leith said, "This is a horrible assignment, isn't it?"
Laughter broke the tension.
"Okay," Verrel said, "We are not here to make jokes."
"Sorry Corporal," Leith apologised. "I just wanted to lighten the mood. Places like these only creep you out if you let them."
"Well, I appreciate the thought at least," Verrel said. "You're with me, then. Lassa, Dunwright, Faeris – you three look around. Tell us if you find anything."
They acknowledged the order and split off, scouting around the room, checking for clues.
"So what's the deal here, anyway?" Leith asked, as he followed Verrel down the corridor to the waiting room at the other end.
"You know the brief," Verrel replied. "There have been reports from other units of Tau activity in this area. They claim to have sighted von Guyen. We're here to tell them they're wrong. The hospital wasn't fully evacuated before the aliens hit and the activity they've seen is probably just the patients."
"Basically, they're jumping at shadows," Leith said.
"Probably," Verrel agreed.
The door ahead hissed aside as they approached and they emerged into another darkened chamber. Their torches cut beams of light into the gloom. In a service cupboard were two generators, both turned off long ago.
"Here goes," Verrel said, and turned them on in turn.
Glow-strips in the ceiling crackled and fizzled into life. The faint hum of climate control systems filled their ears. Soon the waiting room began to grow warm.
"Perfect," Leith said, brightly.
"Let's get back," Verrel ordered.
He led Leith along the corridor and back into the lobby to meet the rest of the squad. The whole place was well lit now, but it yielded no insight into what had brought them there. Every window and door was intact and their scans revealed nothing. There was no sign of the patients.
"Sir," Faeris said, to Verrel, "We've done a full sweep. Nothing to report."
Lassa nodded at the other door.
"The wards are through there," he said. "If there are any patients left in the building, that's where we're going to find them."
"Good spot, Trooper," Verrel told him, and made for the door.
It didn't open when he approached. He broke the glass seal over the emergency release handle and pulled it with all his strength, but to no avail. He was just about to use a breeching charge when the hospital's intercom system gave a faint whine.
"Hello?" came a quiet voice. "Who's there?"
Verrel stepped back from the door.
"This is Corporal Verrel of the 21st Ulian Infantry Regiment," he said. "We're responding to reports of suspicious activity in this area. Identify yourself."
There was a brief pause.
"My name is Rylan Maast," the voice said.
"Corporal," Dunwright said, catching Verrel's attention, "Maast was the one who sent in the call to General Bannur."
"He doesn't seem concerned," Verrel remarked.
"I'm sorry," Maast sent over the intercom. "What call?"
"Go ahead, Trooper," Verrel said to Dunwright.
"That's right," Dunwright said, speaking to thin air. "It was to General Bannur, our commander. He said you requested assistance. You claimed to have positively identified the rogue Inquisitor Samovar von Guyen as being at this location."
"No, no," Maast said. "I would remember saying that."
"We have a recording of it," Dunwright offered.
"That's alright," Verrel cut in, before Maast could reply. "There's no need to argue. Rylan, how about you just open the door to the wards so we can come and talk face to face? We'll sort this out."
"Of course," Maast said. "I think the activation panel is somewhere here . . . uh . . . perhaps you'd better give me a moment."
The intercom chimed and fell silent.
"He definitely messaged the General," Dunwright insisted.
"I know," Verrel assured him. "This is getting a little strange. Weapons up, everyone."
As one, the squad raised their las-rifles. They fanned out around the door in a semicircle, ready to face whatever might be on the other side. As they watched, a holographic display lit up on its surface and began counting down from ten.
"Eyes front and centre," Verrel said. "I don't like this."
The countdown hit zero and the door slid open.
An elderly man in long white robes stood on the other side. His skin was pale and drawn, pulled tightly over the bones beneath. In one hand was a staff topped with a golden book, on which was emblazoned an open eye. Scrolls had been affixed to the handle of the staff with wax seals.
"Emperor's light," he gasped, seeing the weapons pointed at him. "What do you think you're doing? You said you were here to help!"
"Guns down," Verrel snapped.
His men lowered their rifles.
"I'm sorry," he apologised. "But we're not sure what to make of this. Are you Rylan Maast?"
"Yes," Maast said. "Who else would I be? Now, what do you want?"
"Well," Verrel said, "We wanted to check that everything was alright down here. I don't know whether you sent the message to General Bannur or not, but we definitely received something. A squad of Space Marines from the White Knights Chapter is standing by in case von Guyen is here."
"The Executioner?" Maast replied. "I don't know where he is."
"And the patients of the hospital?" Verrel pressed him.
Maast's eyes suddenly brightened and he took a step closer.
"Patients?" he said, smoothly. "Why yes, they're just perfect . . . why don't you come and see them? They'd like that a lot."
"Okay," Verrel said, slowly. "We'll follow you."
The squad dropped neatly into single file, raising their guns on a signalled command, and advanced deeper into the building with Maast in the lead. Their route took them through the wards, past empty beds with the sheets neatly arranged and the pillows fluffed. Everything looked completely normal. The only unlikely part of the equation was Maast himself.
"Yes," he muttered as they went, "We'll go see them."
Eventually they emerged into one of the hospital's laboratories. This room was larger than the others, two floors tall with arched windows looking out over the ruined city outside. In several places the glass had been smashed or cracked and shards covered the floor. There were no working lights.
Verrel checked his surveyor.
"There's been a chemical leak," he said. "Masks on."
They secured their gas masks in place.
"Rylan," Verrel said, to Maast, "It's not safe for you in here."
"Oh, it's quite safe," Maast said, distractedly. "No problems. No call to the General."
"You don't understand," Verrel repeated, louder this time. His voice was muffled and distorted by his mask. "The air isn't good to breathe."
"Quite safe," Maast repeated. He seemed faint. Within a few seconds, his eyes had rolled back in his pale safe. His staff clattered to the floor beside him as he slumped over a desk.
"Get him out of here," Verrel said.
Lassa slung his rifle over his back and hoisted Maast onto his shoulder. He carried him out into the corridor. The door hissed shut behind him.
"None of this makes any sense," Verrel said to himself.
Their torches turned off.
"What in the Emperor's name . . ?" Leith wondered, but he never finished his sentence.
There was a series of loud bangs as thick metal shutters descended over all the windows, immediately plunging the room into complete and utter blackness. A moment later came an ascending whine, quiet at first but soon increasing in volume, as if something was powering up. Then, without warning, the ultraviolet lamps on the lab desks came on.
Verrel's blood ran cold.
Every inch of the walls was covered in writing, all of it in a scrip he didn't recognise. Here and there were odd symbols and diagrams showing planets and star systems. Tendrils of light had been drawn reaching out to them and encircling them, pulling them in towards whirling storms. Above the entrance, written in bloody letters as tall as a man, were four words in Gothic.
"Joyous be your pain," Verrel said, feeling his breath catch in his throat.
"We have to get out," Leith said.
A low snarl came from the centre of the room.
They all span around, weapons raised, ready to fire.
Samovar von Guyen loomed over them. Glowing green eyes burned beneath his black hood. Two gnarled horns rose from his temples. He wore what had once been a set of Inquisition armour, with the symbols scratched off or corrupted. In each of his hands was a chainaxe. They revved hungrily as the Guardsmen looked on, rooted to the spot in fear.
"Go!" Verrel ordered, and their nerve broke.
"Death to the false Emperor!" von Guyen bellowed, his deafening voice echoing around the chamber. His old armour whirred and clanked, rusted motors straining along with his movements, as he whirled around and threw one of the revving chainaxes.
It caught Faeris on the shoulder, spinning him into the wall, and tore its way through his chest as he screamed aloud in agony.
Verrel made it the door. It didn't budge.
"Get it open!" Leith yelled, from somewhere behind him.
"I can't!" Verrel shouted back.
Trooper Dunwright was in the corner with nowhere to run. He was frantically forming the sign of the Aquila over and over. His rifle lay discarded at his feet.
A gauntlet closed tightly around his throat and lifted him off his feet.
He found himself staring into a pair of sunken green eyes.
"The Emperor protects," he whimpered.
"He never even knew you existed," von Guyen hissed, and crushed his throat with a crunch. He turned to Leith, his mechanical joints clicking angrily.
"Get it open!" Leith begged.
Verrel used the butt of his rifle to break the seal over the emergency release handle. He put the gun down and pulled, expecting as much success as the last time he'd tried. To his surprise the door slid open with barely any effort.
Rylan Maast was gone. He was never there. Instead Lassa's corpse lay on the floor with a burning hole in its temple. The Trooper had been goaded to suicide by a figment of his imagination.
"Help me!" Leith cried.
Verrel turned back just in time to see Leith ducking under a swipe from the Executioner's chainaxe. He turned back, wrested the rifle out of Lassa's dead hands and fired it.
The red needle caught von Guyen a glancing blow in the soft padding of his knee, between two thick armoured plates.
Leith saw his chance and ran.
Verrel was already halfway along the corridor. He stumbled into the wards and almost stopped in his tracks. The beds, which had been empty just a few minutes ago, were piled high with the corpses of the hospital's patients. There was blood everywhere. It was a few inches deep on the floor.
"Holy Terra," he gasped.
Then he was running again, sploshing through the thick blood, with Leith a few paces behind him. He didn't look back. He burst into the lobby, almost losing his balance with his sheer speed, to see the closed airlock before him. With shaking fingers he fumbled for his las-pistol. On the third try he dragged it from its holster and shot out the control panel for the airlock. Its two doors swung aside, and within a few short seconds he was outside in the road.
Footsteps came from behind him.
Samovar von Guyen was descending the steps, one hand reaching out for him.
His fingers trembling in fear, Verrel took aim with his pistol and squeezed the trigger as hard as he could. A line of pure red stabbed from the barrel of the gun. At the same time, a bolt of light seared his eyes. The otherworldly powers of Chaos had corrupted his sight.
"No," he choked, seeing clearly once more.
Trooper Leith dropped heavily to his knees, a sucking hole in his chest, his hand still pointing accusingly at Verrel. He took his last breath and collapsed in a limp heap.
"No," Verrel gasped again. "It can't be . . ."
The Executioner emerged from the airlock. He walked down the steps and stood over Leith.
"Such a shame," he tutted, and the wind carried his voice. "Witness the power of Chaos."
Verrel raised his pistol and fired.
The shot whipped straight through von Guyen's forehead.
"Still fighting?" von Guyen asked, piteously. "So misguided."
"Fine then," Verrel said. "Kill me."
Von Guyen shook his head.
"Someone has to survive," he explained. "To spread the message."
"I'm not spreading any message," Verrel spat at him.
"As you will," von Guyen shrugged, uncaringly. "It's too late now, anyway. Off you go, back to safety. See what good it'll do you. And as you go, remember the words of the Dark Gods. Impurity shall be our armour. Hate shall be our weapon."
Verrel holstered his pistol and stumbled away.
Von Guyen watched him.
"Immortality," he recited, closing his eyes, "Shall be our reward."