Finis Fide Chapter 8

The base camp was filled with an eager air of excitement, evident on every face and in every gesture. Men ran to and fro, collecting weapons and gear, Las-locks were primed and mortars prepared in great numbers. Women bustled about, delivering food and parcels of medical herbs. Many of them knew their sons, brothers and husbands would not be coming back but the fierce pride they felt stopped their lips from protesting. Children ran underfoot, trying to sneak into the preparations but they were frilly shooed away. The people of Odosis were simple folk; they expected the menfolk to give battle and their families to nurse whatever parts of them came back from the fighting. Still the natives were not cowed by the chance of death for never had they known such hope before, never had they seen the prospect of their salvation become so close to reality.

One soul among the crowd was not so elated, one man who leaned against a wall and glowered at the preparations. He was Phelps and he was not happy. He looked upon the happy faces of his kin and took them for fools, rash impetuous fools who would not be coming back from this attack. Phelps was old by the local's reckoning, having long since said goodbye to the last colour in his hair and beard. He had survived this long by being cunning, avoiding danger where possible while younger and more stupid fools had charged into the fray and been blown to bits. Phelps only volunteered for the occasional patrol or minor raid because it was expected of him, in this community a man who couldn't pull his weight couldn't expect any help when the cold nights of winter rolled in. The bonds of the community were tighter, tighter than any outsider could know and a man who put himself outside them was as good as dead.

Phelps sulking was interrupted as he sensed the young boy Zander, who breathlessly ran up to him and exclaimed, "Phelps, you have to come and see this. The big Space Marine, he's showing us how to make bombs. All that old mining gear we've had lying around, he says we can make weapons out of it."

Phelps sneered at that, "What's the point?"

Zander frowned in confusion as he said, "You're gloomier than ever. What's wrong with you?"

Phelps waved a hand over the crowd and growled, "These idiots think they're marching towards the liberation of Odoisis, but they don't know what horrors are waiting for them."

Zander shook his head and said, "Surely not, we're going to win. Don't you think so?"

Phelps sucked in a phlegmy breath and then spat a gobbet onto the ground as he sneered, "What I think is that we've survived this long by not stirring up too much trouble. The Psybrids leave us alone out here because we're nothing to them, too much effort to exterminate. But if we attack them directly they'll not be content to sit back anymore, they'll wipe us out for good."

Zander looked dismayed by the proclamation and retorted, "It won't be like that, the Space Marine will drive them off. You'll see, we're going to win!"

Phelps snorted, "And if we do… What then? The Imperium comes back and we go back to the days of tithes, recruitment drafts and priests barking at us night and day. You're too young to remember life under them but I do, at least we're free in this little corner of our world. That will be gone when this war is over."

Zander took a step back and his face screwed up as he cried, "You're just an old fool, you don't know anything. You'll see, the Space Marines will save us and the Sky-Emperor will look upon this world with love."

Phelps rolled his eyes as he muttered, "Go on then, run to your saviours and see if they remember you after the shooting dies down."

Zander turned and dashed away, indignation oozing off him. Phelps could sense his youthful denial but he closed his heart to it. The idiot would learn soon enough that the galaxy only helped those who help themselves. To survive took cleverness and the willingness to look out for number one, and Phelps was determined to survive. He chewed his lip for a second then made a fateful decision. His eyes travelled the camp, checking to see if he was being watched and was relieved to see nothing out of place. He picked himself up and slowly he strolled towards the gate, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. No one stopped him, why would they, as he mooched out the camp and wandered off into the woods.

Once under the shadowy canopy his manner changed, he darted behind a tree and dashed away. He scurried from cover to cover, keeping to the shadows with a skill born from a lifetime of forest scouting. Many times he froze up against a tree, convinced he could hear shuffling leaves or the distinct hum Space Marine's armour made but each time he would find nothing behind him. For nearly an hour he did this, moving further away from the camp, deep into the glades where none would observe him. Finally he found a thick copse of trees, so tightly packed it was almost black underneath and he darted within, anxious that he remain unobserved.

He was breathing hard in anxiety but he wasted no time to move to a patch of disturbed earth and dig into it with his hands. Soft loam moved aside to reveal a wooden box, which he pulled free with a shower of topsoil. He glanced about nervously then hastily flipped it open and reached inside to pull out a strange greenish device, that pulsed and throbbed like it was alive. He put his lips near to the device and whispered "It's me, the Imperials come, you gotta be ready."

The device pulsed for a few moments then a tangled snarl leaked out it, a mangled churn of syllables that could come from no human mouth. Phelps screwed up his face as he sorted the noise in his head then answered, "No listen to me, they bring Space Marines. You hear me, Space Marine. They will attack the Governors Palace through the old sewer network. Did you get that the sewers, you gotta guard the sewers."

A tangled snarl leaked from the device but Phelps, spat, "Don't give me that, I've given you good intel over the years. I'm too valuable too let go. Take out the Space Marines and drive back the attack, but let those who run flee to safety. That's the deal right, I keep you in the loop if anything big comes and you let us get away with a few small raids. We're no danger to you, it's the Imperials you want."

The device hissed once, then went dim and inert. Phelps reached out for the box but at the last second he changed his mind. He grabbed the device with both hands and shoved it under his cloak, then he looked about guiltily. He turned on his heel and ran off muttering to himself, "Nobody understands, I'm the one whose kept everyone safe for years. All those fools running about stirring up trouble, where would they be without me. The aliens promised to leave us alone if we just kept an eye out for them. Imperials, they're just as bad as the Xenos, we won't be slaves to anyone ever again."

Phelps disappeared, leaving behind silence and darkness. The copse was deserted and nothing disturbed the stillness, nothing mortal at least. With infinite care a shape moved out of the shadow of a tree, so still it had passed inspection in the twilight gloom. Arms and legs became visible and a persistent humming built up as power cells fed energy to awakening fibre motive bundles. Very slowly Halis Paur turned his head and watched the distant shape of Phelps retreating as he whispered, "I knew it."

A heartbeat later a second silhouette emerged, Brother Jediah who growled, "You were right about him, a weak link if ever I saw one."

Halis confirmed, "I knew there was more to this camp than meets the eye. The Xenos could have wiped this place out any time they liked, so why haven't they?"

"A spy, looking to draw out Imperial forces," Jediah growled, "I'm going to kill him and eat his brains."

"No," Halis replied firmly, "Let him go, I've got a better idea."