Chapter 1 - Beginnings
Mikael Gabriel Rakash shivered. He pulled his worn brown trench coat around himself in an effort to preserve body heat, to little avail. This world was as cold to him as his own would be unbearably hot to a local.
Pulling his pouch of tobacco out of his pocket, he began rolling up a small cigarette. Though told how bad they were for his health, Rakash hardly cared. He doubted any of the medicae staff were as fit as him, a product of one of the most dangerous worlds in the galaxy.
Yes, this world was definitely very alien to him- despite seeing many of its like during his long life as a soldier. Referred to as a civilised world by Imperial records, which basically meant it was rife with corruption in Rakash's books, this was a planet of massive sky scrapers and grey hazy air.
Take any of the worlds he'd been to and chances are most of the 'civilised' ones were where they were fighting local rebels or heretics. On more feral worlds, such as his own planet, and you found a devout and pure population. True, he'd fought his fair share on those sorts of worlds as well- but at least it wasn't Imperial subjects causing the problems.
Yes, civilisation didn't appeal to Rakash at all. It had its pleasures, sure, but more often then not it wasn't worth it. Give him a primitive little village to rest and relax in any day.
Lighting his cigarette and taking a drag, Rakash gave a breath of satisfaction as his chest was warmed from the inside. Not the best of brands, but decent enough. He'd have to get some of the better stuff off of Jukata next time they crossed paths. He always had the best of everything, though at less then best prices.
Rakash, though short compared to many of his own regiment, was a tall and gaunt man. Thin yet wiry, he was a lot tougher then he seemed at first glance- even when unarmed. With any of the weapons hidden about his body he was a killing machine. His prized brace of Bolt pistols, his antiquated Chainsword, his collection of various knives- all were pure death in his hands.
Over his standard guard-issue combat fatigues Rakash wore his old and battered trench coat, which instantly singled him out from the others of his regiment. He wore his gun holsters, webbing, knife sheaths, grenade pouches and plenty more besides under his coat. His sword was hidden down his back, the hilt face downwards to avoid detection and damage to the coat when drawn quickly.
A smile formed across his ebony face, an ugly expression to say the least. Not that he meant it to be so, as he was a good man at heart. The massive scar tissue the knitted across his head, most notably the massive gash caving down from his forehead to his left cheek, did that. The metal patch bolted to his left eye didn't help either, nor the acid burns across his skull which rendered him bald. Fully aware that the smile unnerved many of the people he meet and knew, Rakash rarely smiled. But now, alone, he smiled for the sake of smiling. He was alive, and despite the cold fairly comfortable. Things could be a lot worse.
* * *
Niri Heslin walked slowly down the well lit tunnel that adjoined towers 234 and 235. She was in no rush, and anyway walking quickly hurt her legs. Not that they didn't ache slightly from her hard day of work anyway, but adding to the discomfort wasn't top on her to do list. Besides, there was a nice view from the tunnel. At least, nice holo-vids of outside.
There weren't many people around, not surprising since it was so early in the morning. That was the trouble with working such long hours at the administrium offices. But the pay was good, and the work manageable. On this planet such work was a goldmine of opportunity. Any work that wasn't in the pits was.
She approached the check-point, and was waved through by the pair of guards who manned the desk. She knew them both fairly well, and they'd stopped checking her pass-card months before.
She smiled at one of them as she passed by, a younger trooper called Jerim, who smiled back.
"Save journey, Niri," he called after her. Turning back, she waved friendlily. There was a little chemistry between the two of them, or so Niri liked to think. He seemed interested enough; though she'd yet to meet him out of uniform.
She'd be fine. Nothing bad ever happened here.
* * *
This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do it all.
"I ordered a room with a view, and I expect a room with a view!"
"Yes, sir." the porter stammered, looking up nervously at the much larger man standing before him, "each of the windows shows a variety of views from around this and many other planets."
"I didn't ask for view-screens, now did I? When I say a view, I mean a real view."
"I'm sorry sir, but there are no apartments with direct views of the outside on this level, or any other levels up until level 200."
"Excuses, excuses." the man suddenly grinned broadly, showing off his pearly white teeth. He pulled out a handful of thin plastic cards and pushed them into the porter's hands.
"Sir.?"
"For the room, and for the comedy," Captain Odo Thor said with a swift wink, suddenly grabbing the startled man by the shoulders and spinning him around and out the door. Slamming the door behind him, Thor laughed raucously before inspecting the room.
As a one man barracks went, it was half decent.
* * *
"Off-world barbarian dog soldiers," snorted the Lieutenant, a short and plump man in his early twenties.
"Indeed," the Marshall- an elderly, solidly built and overweight man who wore his medals and faint facial scars in equal honour- replied curtly as he glanced down at the report file his aid had just handed him, "however they are war veterans, heroes. We must treat them as honoured guests until their shore leave is over."
"Half a month of them?" the Lieutenant snorted, disgust obvious in his eyes.
"Yes, that's what the report you just gave me says."
"But sir, surely it would be better to house them in the common barracks with the other troops garrisoned here."
The Marshall glanced up, left eyebrow soaring almost above his forehead . The Lieutenant suddenly and very wisely snapped his mouth firmly shut.
"No, Mr Herdish, we shall not. We can't give ourselves a bad name by mistreating such.esteemed warriors."
The Lieutenant smiled thinly as he heard the Marshall's last words, strained as they were. He then realised the Marshall's predicament- putting up with savages in the name of giving themselves a better image. Political power, public support. Although these things meant little to Lieutenant Herdish, being on the good side of a person who those things did mean a lot to did.
"I understand completely now, Lord Marshall. I apologize. I shall see that all courtesies are extended to our honoured war heroes, sir."
The Marshall smiled thinly and nodded. Smiling brightly now, Herdish saluted smartly and span on his heel as he left the office.
* * *
"Well ain't this something?"
The troopers looked around the apartment, a mix of awe and disbelief on their faces. This room, indeed set of rooms, was large enough to house dozens of troopers in regular barracks conditions. They were putting five in here. Extra beds had been brought in here, from the look of the marks left on the carpet from rearranging, suggesting that only one or two people would of lived in a place like this. To these five men, such luxury was almost unbelievable.
"You sure they ain't screwed things up, put us in the wrong place?" one of them said as he glanced around the place.
"Probably," another said, dumping his pack on one of the beds, "even so, I'm making the best of this."
"War heroes, that's what we are," a third laughed, "damn, but this is gunna be a nice break from the norm."
"We never got this before," said the fourth, the largest man out of the group, "nope, we were just shifted off to the next warzone, then the next, and the next."
The other four troopers looked up at him interestedly. They were all fairly new to the regiment, only serving for about five years each. This soldier, a Sergeant from his rank pins, was much older then them- a true veteran. When veterans spoke, people listened.
"Nope, we ain't never had good treatment at all, not since when I was a trooper myself all those years back."
"Never, 'sarg?" the first trooper asked, dumping his gear on another bed and sitting down to listen.
"Nope. We've been treated like nothin' for as long as I know, and that goes back a fair way. Wonder what's happened to change that."
Sergeant Jack Barnes stood there, in the doorway, thinking hard. Not the most bright of men, indeed counted among the least by some, old Sergeant Barnes wasn't much of a thinker. Didn't think much for thinking in actual fact, but then and there he tried his damnedest.
Standing well over seven foot eight inches, Barnes was a monster of a man. Massive muscles dominated his body, his vest tight to bursting point from it. Sandy blond haired, cut short with a red bandana around his forehead, Barnes was often the brunt of jokes about his intelligence. He cared nothing for the jokes, and even laughed along with them, but no-one doubted his skills as a squad combat leader or soldier. Even in his middle age Barnes was among the fittest and strongest in the regiment, though many claimed this was due to the fact he ate twice as much as anyone else in the regiment. Even though this is in fact true, no-one truly begrudged him for it. Having Barnes next to you in battle was a blessing. All that into account, old Jack was also an amazing card player and always had good- if simple- advice to offer.
"Maybe they think we've earned it this time?"
"Maybe.maybe." Barnes murmured quietly as he moved to claim his own bed, "or maybe somethin' else."
* * *
Home at last.
It was nearly an hour before sunrise before Niri was inside her apartment and had the door closed behind herself. An hour before the morning rush, where all the common workers went to work. Niri had experienced the horrors of the pits, if at a distance. She used to work as a clerk in the offices overhanging one of the giant craters that the great city of Vastol was built over, back when she first started work. She'd been lucky, spotted by an administrium official who was going over mining documents who had noticed her hard work. She'd been transferred to Administrium Head Office of this planet, Tereskor Herbantius, where she'd worked for the past year or so. She, as she had done many times before, whispered a quick thanks to the Emperor for this early chance in life to make something of herself.
But now she was tired, and despite the excellence of her job it was still draining. She made a mental reminder to use up some of her R&R credits soon, for a little break to unwind and relax. She was due it, and her superiors knew it. She could almost taste the promise of promotion. Under Supervisor Heslin. Yes, she liked the sound of that.
Humming a little tune, she went into the kitchen and pulled a ready made meal out of the preserver unit. Cold, true, but it was all she really had time for. Tucking in, she switched on the vox-transmitter as she walked out of the kitchen and to her comfortable couch. News was the same old same: everything is fine, do not panic, everything is under control. It was almost laughable, though Niri was thankful that there was nothing going on. Nothing ever happened here, bar the odd slump in ore refining or the occasional death of some old government official. Nothing to worry about at all.
Then came the music, a soft melody composed by someone hundreds of years ago, which she let wash over her like a warm breeze. Despite the fact the people who wrote and performed the song were long dead, it wasn't bad.
She smiled, enjoying the taste of the food and the sound of the music, and let her eyes slowly close.
* * *
"Good evening."
Rakash looked around towards the person who had addressed him. In the gloom, he couldn't see much, but he could see a figure walking towards him.
"Hello," he replied, watching as the figure took form. A fairly average looking trooper from the Planetary Guard stepped forwards, and shone his flashlight in Rakash's general direction- making sure not to blind him while doing so. His uniform was a pale blue, almost grey, and his beret was navy blue. He had a standard pattern lasrifle slung over his right shoulder, casually. Rakash was quick to notice that the uniform wasn't flexible at all, and he had no webbing with which to hold additional ammo or equipment. The lasrifle didn't look used at all either.
That's PDF for you- totally green.
"May I ask what you're doing up here at this time of the morning?" the trooper asked, a bored look in his red rimmed eyes. Obviously looking for something to waste his time with until it was the end of his shift.
Rakash smiled grimly and presented his cigarette, which he then took a quick puff of. The trooper nodded in understanding, being thankful that at least one of the off-worlders knew that smoking indoors was against the rules. This being resolved, Rakash turned away from him and continued to smoke. However the trooper didn't seem to want to leave in such a hurry.
"So you're an off worlder?"
Rakash grimaced at the idiotic question. Somehow the snotty tone of this trooper's voice made it sound a lot dumber then it actually was.
"Yes, I am."
"How far are you from home?"
More questions.
"A long way away."
"Must be difficult. I wouldn't be able to cope with it, being away from your family and all that."
Rakash spun around to look at the trooper, a very grim and very ugly look on his face.
"If you truly want to know how difficult it is, try signing up after losing all your loved ones and battle across half the galaxy fighting hundreds of battles on dozens of worlds for most of your life without getting any true thanks for it until right at the end some high and mighty Governor or General decides that he wants to get a bit more public support by throwing a little charity at some poor barbarian dog soldiers, and then have to put up with repeatedly stupid questions from a toy soldier when you're trying to have a simple cigarette in peace."
There was a long pause between the two of them, and the trooper seemed to shrink slightly in front of the seasoned warrior who glowered down at him. He then perked up, and quickly un-slung his rifle and aimed it at Rakash.
"I don't like your tone. I'm going to escort you off the roof, right now. It's off limits to non-authorised personal."
Rakash started at him down the barrel of the gun. He then laughed, a deep and dirty noise that shivered the trooper's spine.
"Point that at someone else, trooper." Rakash turned around from him again, and took another drag off his cigarette. He wasn't at all surprised when he felt the mussel of the rifle press into his back.
"I'm warning you."
"Big mistake," Rakash stated calmly.
Spinning as fast as lightning, Rakash had turned around faster then the trooper could see. Grabbing the barrel of the rifle, he pulled it forwards and then thrust it back into the man's chest. Gasping out in pain, he fell backwards onto the ground with a loud thud. Rakash, again almost to fast to see, ripped out the ammo cartridge and tossed it and the lasrifle in opposite directions. The trooper was beginning to scramble to his feet, grasping around for another weapon that he clearly didn't have. Realising this, he cried out for help.
Before any came, he was met with a cold hard light in the face. An object was pushed into his face, a piece of cloth with something sawn on it.
Colonel's tags.
"Oh.oh."
The piece of cloth disappeared into Rakash's pocket once more, and the lamp pack was tossed aside.
"Next time, check who you're picking a fight with, trooper."
Rakash tossed the end of his cigarette at the dazed trooper and stormed off. His bad temper was sated for a while.
* * *
The man walked down the tunnel between towers 234 and 235, silent and lightly footed. The two troopers barely noticed him as he approached the checkpoint, who quickly moved to check his pass-card.
"A bit late to be out, isn't it sir?" Trooper Jerim said, trying to sound cheerful. Truth was he was fit to drop. The man looked up at him and smiled an innocent and instantly forgettable smile.
"Yes, yes it is."
His voice was audible, but felt like it was never spoken, as if he'd never actually spoken at all but implanted the words directly into their brains. Confused, Jerim quickly passed the man's card to Corporal Grieves. The older soldier flashed it through the scanner, and nodded.
"Sorry to hold you up, Mr Fenison," he said as he handed the card back. Fenison smiled and nodded politely as he continued on his way.
Several minutes after his passing, Jerim broke the silence between the two of them
"Did that strike you as odd?"
"What did?" Grieves replied, looking up from the desk.
Jerim paused for a moment, then shook his head.
"Nothing.nothing's odd. Everything's fine."
* * *
The massive man sat quietly in the corner, knees to his chin and arms around his legs, rocking slowly back and forth. His long and straggly blonde hair was down across his face, obscuring his features. He whimpered quietly to himself. Inner torment reeked through his mind, gnawing at his sanity like a pack of rats slowly but surely striping a carcass bare. He would never be the same, never like he was before.then.
No.no.best not to drudge into that past, nor any of his many pasts. No, best to focus on the now and when. Looking up, he found little comfort. The walls of plaster seemed to cage him in like a wild beast, slowly dimming his natural instinct and sending him insane. Letting his head drop once more, he began to cry soft but hard tears.
Don't you see? It is hopeless.
"Go away." he whispered hoarsely. The voice's harsh and ghostly cackle river betted in his mind, causing immense pain. Gritting his teeth, the man bore it stubbornly and refused to give it. Blood began to slowly drip out of his mouth and nose.
Your soul shall be mine, Marnier Candiver, even if it takes ten thousand years of torture.
* * *
The water was hot, but not too hot. Perfect, in fact.
Miri slipped into the tub, and sighed as her weary muscles relaxed. The scented soaps and spices she'd added smelt heavenly, and relaxed her overworked brain. She'd been waiting all day for this, and she's damn well earned it.
Laying there for several long minutes, Miri let her mind wander. She thought of her childhood, full of happy memories of her mother and father, and of her teenage years in the hive college. She thought of all her friends she'd met there, and in particular she thought of Derian. She smiled softly at his memory. She wondered if he still lived in the same place, and made a mental note to check. It would be nice to see him again.
Focusing her thoughts on that young man she once knew, she let her eyes close and a groan of comfort filter through her lips.
* * *
Suddenly stirring from his fit of depression, the massive man jumped to his feet. He'd felt something, something he'd learned to suppress many years ago.
Yes.you hear it too, don't you? You remember that calling, that calling you rejected all those years ago. You can't just stand here and do nothing.can you?
His tear streaked eyes suddenly hardened in hatred, and every muscle in his body tensed. Sweat began running down his face from the exertion he put upon himself, trying to shut the voice out of his head.
"Silence." he hissed. The voice boomed out in laughter, but despite its mirth it slowly faded into nothingness. Relaxing and letting his body sag, the huge man walked towards the door of his apartment.
He would not do nothing, not while he had strength left in his body and soul.
* * *
There was a sharp rap on the door, which shook Miri out of her deep thoughts. Water splashed over the sides of the tub and onto the floor, and Miri cursed softly. Pulling herself out of the ceramic basin, she shivered as the cool and conditioned air of her apartment struck her naked skin. She made a quick mental note to raise the temperature next time she had a bath.
Pulling on a simple white bathrobe, she tied the string and rearranged her hair quickly in the mirror.
Who would be knocking on her door at this time of the morning? Someone important, she assumed, or someone with something important to give or tell her. Either way, it was best to try and look tidy.
Giving up her hurried attempts in the mirror, she moved towards the door just as it was knocked upon again.
"Coming!" she sang out, hurrying across the wooden floor and trying not to get everything wet. Hands moving swiftly, she unlocked the door and removed the latch. Putting on her most friendly smile, she opened the door.
A fairly tall yet un-menacing man stood by the doorway, handsome in a modest fashion and possessing a certain air about himself that suggested a man that bore polite confidence and a sharp intellect.
Miri couldn't suppress a massive wide mouthed expression of joy.
"Derian!" she said softly, cheeks twitching madly with uncontrollable happiness, "you."
"Yes, I've come back, Miri," the man said, smiling softly and sadly, "come back to make right things that should not have happened between us."
"What do you mean?" Miri asked, confusion clouding her face. Derian's smile intensified, become warmer and more soothing.
"For not admitting to you the things that I have felt in my heart for the longest time."
Miri's face streaked with tears of joy, and before Derian could move she had her arms around him tightly.
* * *
He was now once more the Hunter, stalking through the hallways of this metal jungle. As silent as a gentle gush of wind and as swift as a Black Tiger, he avoided all the guards, checkpoints and cameras that protected the people of this great spire-city as if they were not there. He instinctively knew when to move, when to stay, where he was going. He was the Wildthing, and nothing could stop him.
* * *
Miri withdrew from Derian's warm, strong arms and smiled up at him. He smiled back, and she took him by the hands and led him into her apartment. He kicked the door closed with a resounding thud.
* * *
It was close now, he knew it. The voice told him so, but he didn't need the voice anymore. He could smell it, so strong and yet so subtle. He rounded another corner, and narrowly avoided a trio of people walking past by ducking into the shadows. Dawn had come, and the workers were rising and going to work.
Damn, he had hoped he could finish this beforehand, but there was no choice now. He would have to be swift.
Charging out of the shadows, he barged past the trio of workers and knocked one to the ground with a yelp. Angry shouts followed after him, and he knew that the local guards may soon be on his tail.
Turning the next corner he saw the door in the distance, which suddenly slammed shut. Swallowing hard, Wild sprinted for the door as fast as his legs would carry him.
* * *
Laughing, Miri did a small leap in the air. Joy clouded her mind, making her dizzy and dull witted.
Exactly what he wanted.
Smiling grimly, Derian stepped towards her.
She turned towards him, and was about to plant a kiss on his face when she stopped dead. Time slowed to a crawl, every tiny detail suddenly painfully clear.
She saw the knife, the short and thin blade held in her old friend's hand. She saw the cold smile on his face. She saw the sudden glimmer of void in his eyes.
Her mouth hung open and words began spilling out, muddled and incomprehensible pleas. The man merely continued to smile as the blade lashed out.
* * *
Time returned to normal with explosive force. The door, made of a hardened wood from some far off world, smashed off its hinges and collapsed on top of Derian. Pinned to the ground, he couldn't respond to the huge man looming behind him. Head gripped between massive paws, he twisted sharply.
Wildthing stared down at the corpse and spat. The man was definitely dead, his head nigh ripped from his shoulders and his body impaled upon his own blade.
Turning, he saw the girl. She too was totally white, a look of pure horror upon her fair face, stomach torn open and her bodily fluids adorning the floor. A tear formed in his eyes. He'd failed. She was dead.
Falling to his knees, he began weeping once more.
Marnier.Marnier.there was nothing you could have done to stop this.tragedy.
The voice crowed at him, mocking his sorrow, making his defeat even more bitter to bare.
But.
Wild's weeping abated for a second. He looked up, his face red and tear streaked.
"What?" he croaked, blood dripping down from his nose once more.
The voice began laughing gleefully.
Oh? So you'll listen now? Good.I hope you make it a habit, Marnier, for we shall be together for a very long time.
"Can you make this right?" Wild demanded, fire returning to his heart, "can you bring her back, daemon?"
No.but you can. Remember though, that everything has its price.
"Anything." Wild whispered, "anything."
The voice cackled madly.
I ask for nothing, this time. Only believe in yourself, and unlock that which you have hidden. Remember the price, for it shall shape your destiny.
"Silence," Wild demanded, and he was obeyed.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated. The daemon's words burned in his mind, but he tries his best to ignore them and the feeling of utter dread that penetrated his soul. This was wrong.but the lesser of two evils.
He placed his hands upon the dead woman's head, and focused on her. For several long seconds nothing happened. Then, suddenly, pain seared through his mind and jumped through his arms and into the woman. Fire, intense and near uncontrollable, ripped through his very being. Wildthing screamed in pure agony, but did not let go. He could not.
His skin began to strain at the massive energies channelling through his body, and his bones seemed to rattle in their sockets. Spasming, foam discharged out of his mouth and blood streamed freely from his nose, ears and ears. Insane laughter loomed behind the agony.
He couldn't stop. It was beyond his means to control. Far beyond his means.
It ended, pure madness being replaced by pure white in a mere nano- second. His muscles gave out, and Wild collapsed onto the floor- vomit spewing out of his mouth and nose, mingling with the blood of three people.
Just before he blacked out, two figures appeared in the corner of his eye. Advancing quickly, they were on Wild before he could even think of responding. A baton came crashing down on his skull, giving him a release from the pain.
"Witchcraft," hissed one of them, glaring down at the massive man on the ground, "only one thing to do with scum like this."
Mikael Gabriel Rakash shivered. He pulled his worn brown trench coat around himself in an effort to preserve body heat, to little avail. This world was as cold to him as his own would be unbearably hot to a local.
Pulling his pouch of tobacco out of his pocket, he began rolling up a small cigarette. Though told how bad they were for his health, Rakash hardly cared. He doubted any of the medicae staff were as fit as him, a product of one of the most dangerous worlds in the galaxy.
Yes, this world was definitely very alien to him- despite seeing many of its like during his long life as a soldier. Referred to as a civilised world by Imperial records, which basically meant it was rife with corruption in Rakash's books, this was a planet of massive sky scrapers and grey hazy air.
Take any of the worlds he'd been to and chances are most of the 'civilised' ones were where they were fighting local rebels or heretics. On more feral worlds, such as his own planet, and you found a devout and pure population. True, he'd fought his fair share on those sorts of worlds as well- but at least it wasn't Imperial subjects causing the problems.
Yes, civilisation didn't appeal to Rakash at all. It had its pleasures, sure, but more often then not it wasn't worth it. Give him a primitive little village to rest and relax in any day.
Lighting his cigarette and taking a drag, Rakash gave a breath of satisfaction as his chest was warmed from the inside. Not the best of brands, but decent enough. He'd have to get some of the better stuff off of Jukata next time they crossed paths. He always had the best of everything, though at less then best prices.
Rakash, though short compared to many of his own regiment, was a tall and gaunt man. Thin yet wiry, he was a lot tougher then he seemed at first glance- even when unarmed. With any of the weapons hidden about his body he was a killing machine. His prized brace of Bolt pistols, his antiquated Chainsword, his collection of various knives- all were pure death in his hands.
Over his standard guard-issue combat fatigues Rakash wore his old and battered trench coat, which instantly singled him out from the others of his regiment. He wore his gun holsters, webbing, knife sheaths, grenade pouches and plenty more besides under his coat. His sword was hidden down his back, the hilt face downwards to avoid detection and damage to the coat when drawn quickly.
A smile formed across his ebony face, an ugly expression to say the least. Not that he meant it to be so, as he was a good man at heart. The massive scar tissue the knitted across his head, most notably the massive gash caving down from his forehead to his left cheek, did that. The metal patch bolted to his left eye didn't help either, nor the acid burns across his skull which rendered him bald. Fully aware that the smile unnerved many of the people he meet and knew, Rakash rarely smiled. But now, alone, he smiled for the sake of smiling. He was alive, and despite the cold fairly comfortable. Things could be a lot worse.
* * *
Niri Heslin walked slowly down the well lit tunnel that adjoined towers 234 and 235. She was in no rush, and anyway walking quickly hurt her legs. Not that they didn't ache slightly from her hard day of work anyway, but adding to the discomfort wasn't top on her to do list. Besides, there was a nice view from the tunnel. At least, nice holo-vids of outside.
There weren't many people around, not surprising since it was so early in the morning. That was the trouble with working such long hours at the administrium offices. But the pay was good, and the work manageable. On this planet such work was a goldmine of opportunity. Any work that wasn't in the pits was.
She approached the check-point, and was waved through by the pair of guards who manned the desk. She knew them both fairly well, and they'd stopped checking her pass-card months before.
She smiled at one of them as she passed by, a younger trooper called Jerim, who smiled back.
"Save journey, Niri," he called after her. Turning back, she waved friendlily. There was a little chemistry between the two of them, or so Niri liked to think. He seemed interested enough; though she'd yet to meet him out of uniform.
She'd be fine. Nothing bad ever happened here.
* * *
This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do it all.
"I ordered a room with a view, and I expect a room with a view!"
"Yes, sir." the porter stammered, looking up nervously at the much larger man standing before him, "each of the windows shows a variety of views from around this and many other planets."
"I didn't ask for view-screens, now did I? When I say a view, I mean a real view."
"I'm sorry sir, but there are no apartments with direct views of the outside on this level, or any other levels up until level 200."
"Excuses, excuses." the man suddenly grinned broadly, showing off his pearly white teeth. He pulled out a handful of thin plastic cards and pushed them into the porter's hands.
"Sir.?"
"For the room, and for the comedy," Captain Odo Thor said with a swift wink, suddenly grabbing the startled man by the shoulders and spinning him around and out the door. Slamming the door behind him, Thor laughed raucously before inspecting the room.
As a one man barracks went, it was half decent.
* * *
"Off-world barbarian dog soldiers," snorted the Lieutenant, a short and plump man in his early twenties.
"Indeed," the Marshall- an elderly, solidly built and overweight man who wore his medals and faint facial scars in equal honour- replied curtly as he glanced down at the report file his aid had just handed him, "however they are war veterans, heroes. We must treat them as honoured guests until their shore leave is over."
"Half a month of them?" the Lieutenant snorted, disgust obvious in his eyes.
"Yes, that's what the report you just gave me says."
"But sir, surely it would be better to house them in the common barracks with the other troops garrisoned here."
The Marshall glanced up, left eyebrow soaring almost above his forehead . The Lieutenant suddenly and very wisely snapped his mouth firmly shut.
"No, Mr Herdish, we shall not. We can't give ourselves a bad name by mistreating such.esteemed warriors."
The Lieutenant smiled thinly as he heard the Marshall's last words, strained as they were. He then realised the Marshall's predicament- putting up with savages in the name of giving themselves a better image. Political power, public support. Although these things meant little to Lieutenant Herdish, being on the good side of a person who those things did mean a lot to did.
"I understand completely now, Lord Marshall. I apologize. I shall see that all courtesies are extended to our honoured war heroes, sir."
The Marshall smiled thinly and nodded. Smiling brightly now, Herdish saluted smartly and span on his heel as he left the office.
* * *
"Well ain't this something?"
The troopers looked around the apartment, a mix of awe and disbelief on their faces. This room, indeed set of rooms, was large enough to house dozens of troopers in regular barracks conditions. They were putting five in here. Extra beds had been brought in here, from the look of the marks left on the carpet from rearranging, suggesting that only one or two people would of lived in a place like this. To these five men, such luxury was almost unbelievable.
"You sure they ain't screwed things up, put us in the wrong place?" one of them said as he glanced around the place.
"Probably," another said, dumping his pack on one of the beds, "even so, I'm making the best of this."
"War heroes, that's what we are," a third laughed, "damn, but this is gunna be a nice break from the norm."
"We never got this before," said the fourth, the largest man out of the group, "nope, we were just shifted off to the next warzone, then the next, and the next."
The other four troopers looked up at him interestedly. They were all fairly new to the regiment, only serving for about five years each. This soldier, a Sergeant from his rank pins, was much older then them- a true veteran. When veterans spoke, people listened.
"Nope, we ain't never had good treatment at all, not since when I was a trooper myself all those years back."
"Never, 'sarg?" the first trooper asked, dumping his gear on another bed and sitting down to listen.
"Nope. We've been treated like nothin' for as long as I know, and that goes back a fair way. Wonder what's happened to change that."
Sergeant Jack Barnes stood there, in the doorway, thinking hard. Not the most bright of men, indeed counted among the least by some, old Sergeant Barnes wasn't much of a thinker. Didn't think much for thinking in actual fact, but then and there he tried his damnedest.
Standing well over seven foot eight inches, Barnes was a monster of a man. Massive muscles dominated his body, his vest tight to bursting point from it. Sandy blond haired, cut short with a red bandana around his forehead, Barnes was often the brunt of jokes about his intelligence. He cared nothing for the jokes, and even laughed along with them, but no-one doubted his skills as a squad combat leader or soldier. Even in his middle age Barnes was among the fittest and strongest in the regiment, though many claimed this was due to the fact he ate twice as much as anyone else in the regiment. Even though this is in fact true, no-one truly begrudged him for it. Having Barnes next to you in battle was a blessing. All that into account, old Jack was also an amazing card player and always had good- if simple- advice to offer.
"Maybe they think we've earned it this time?"
"Maybe.maybe." Barnes murmured quietly as he moved to claim his own bed, "or maybe somethin' else."
* * *
Home at last.
It was nearly an hour before sunrise before Niri was inside her apartment and had the door closed behind herself. An hour before the morning rush, where all the common workers went to work. Niri had experienced the horrors of the pits, if at a distance. She used to work as a clerk in the offices overhanging one of the giant craters that the great city of Vastol was built over, back when she first started work. She'd been lucky, spotted by an administrium official who was going over mining documents who had noticed her hard work. She'd been transferred to Administrium Head Office of this planet, Tereskor Herbantius, where she'd worked for the past year or so. She, as she had done many times before, whispered a quick thanks to the Emperor for this early chance in life to make something of herself.
But now she was tired, and despite the excellence of her job it was still draining. She made a mental reminder to use up some of her R&R credits soon, for a little break to unwind and relax. She was due it, and her superiors knew it. She could almost taste the promise of promotion. Under Supervisor Heslin. Yes, she liked the sound of that.
Humming a little tune, she went into the kitchen and pulled a ready made meal out of the preserver unit. Cold, true, but it was all she really had time for. Tucking in, she switched on the vox-transmitter as she walked out of the kitchen and to her comfortable couch. News was the same old same: everything is fine, do not panic, everything is under control. It was almost laughable, though Niri was thankful that there was nothing going on. Nothing ever happened here, bar the odd slump in ore refining or the occasional death of some old government official. Nothing to worry about at all.
Then came the music, a soft melody composed by someone hundreds of years ago, which she let wash over her like a warm breeze. Despite the fact the people who wrote and performed the song were long dead, it wasn't bad.
She smiled, enjoying the taste of the food and the sound of the music, and let her eyes slowly close.
* * *
"Good evening."
Rakash looked around towards the person who had addressed him. In the gloom, he couldn't see much, but he could see a figure walking towards him.
"Hello," he replied, watching as the figure took form. A fairly average looking trooper from the Planetary Guard stepped forwards, and shone his flashlight in Rakash's general direction- making sure not to blind him while doing so. His uniform was a pale blue, almost grey, and his beret was navy blue. He had a standard pattern lasrifle slung over his right shoulder, casually. Rakash was quick to notice that the uniform wasn't flexible at all, and he had no webbing with which to hold additional ammo or equipment. The lasrifle didn't look used at all either.
That's PDF for you- totally green.
"May I ask what you're doing up here at this time of the morning?" the trooper asked, a bored look in his red rimmed eyes. Obviously looking for something to waste his time with until it was the end of his shift.
Rakash smiled grimly and presented his cigarette, which he then took a quick puff of. The trooper nodded in understanding, being thankful that at least one of the off-worlders knew that smoking indoors was against the rules. This being resolved, Rakash turned away from him and continued to smoke. However the trooper didn't seem to want to leave in such a hurry.
"So you're an off worlder?"
Rakash grimaced at the idiotic question. Somehow the snotty tone of this trooper's voice made it sound a lot dumber then it actually was.
"Yes, I am."
"How far are you from home?"
More questions.
"A long way away."
"Must be difficult. I wouldn't be able to cope with it, being away from your family and all that."
Rakash spun around to look at the trooper, a very grim and very ugly look on his face.
"If you truly want to know how difficult it is, try signing up after losing all your loved ones and battle across half the galaxy fighting hundreds of battles on dozens of worlds for most of your life without getting any true thanks for it until right at the end some high and mighty Governor or General decides that he wants to get a bit more public support by throwing a little charity at some poor barbarian dog soldiers, and then have to put up with repeatedly stupid questions from a toy soldier when you're trying to have a simple cigarette in peace."
There was a long pause between the two of them, and the trooper seemed to shrink slightly in front of the seasoned warrior who glowered down at him. He then perked up, and quickly un-slung his rifle and aimed it at Rakash.
"I don't like your tone. I'm going to escort you off the roof, right now. It's off limits to non-authorised personal."
Rakash started at him down the barrel of the gun. He then laughed, a deep and dirty noise that shivered the trooper's spine.
"Point that at someone else, trooper." Rakash turned around from him again, and took another drag off his cigarette. He wasn't at all surprised when he felt the mussel of the rifle press into his back.
"I'm warning you."
"Big mistake," Rakash stated calmly.
Spinning as fast as lightning, Rakash had turned around faster then the trooper could see. Grabbing the barrel of the rifle, he pulled it forwards and then thrust it back into the man's chest. Gasping out in pain, he fell backwards onto the ground with a loud thud. Rakash, again almost to fast to see, ripped out the ammo cartridge and tossed it and the lasrifle in opposite directions. The trooper was beginning to scramble to his feet, grasping around for another weapon that he clearly didn't have. Realising this, he cried out for help.
Before any came, he was met with a cold hard light in the face. An object was pushed into his face, a piece of cloth with something sawn on it.
Colonel's tags.
"Oh.oh."
The piece of cloth disappeared into Rakash's pocket once more, and the lamp pack was tossed aside.
"Next time, check who you're picking a fight with, trooper."
Rakash tossed the end of his cigarette at the dazed trooper and stormed off. His bad temper was sated for a while.
* * *
The man walked down the tunnel between towers 234 and 235, silent and lightly footed. The two troopers barely noticed him as he approached the checkpoint, who quickly moved to check his pass-card.
"A bit late to be out, isn't it sir?" Trooper Jerim said, trying to sound cheerful. Truth was he was fit to drop. The man looked up at him and smiled an innocent and instantly forgettable smile.
"Yes, yes it is."
His voice was audible, but felt like it was never spoken, as if he'd never actually spoken at all but implanted the words directly into their brains. Confused, Jerim quickly passed the man's card to Corporal Grieves. The older soldier flashed it through the scanner, and nodded.
"Sorry to hold you up, Mr Fenison," he said as he handed the card back. Fenison smiled and nodded politely as he continued on his way.
Several minutes after his passing, Jerim broke the silence between the two of them
"Did that strike you as odd?"
"What did?" Grieves replied, looking up from the desk.
Jerim paused for a moment, then shook his head.
"Nothing.nothing's odd. Everything's fine."
* * *
The massive man sat quietly in the corner, knees to his chin and arms around his legs, rocking slowly back and forth. His long and straggly blonde hair was down across his face, obscuring his features. He whimpered quietly to himself. Inner torment reeked through his mind, gnawing at his sanity like a pack of rats slowly but surely striping a carcass bare. He would never be the same, never like he was before.then.
No.no.best not to drudge into that past, nor any of his many pasts. No, best to focus on the now and when. Looking up, he found little comfort. The walls of plaster seemed to cage him in like a wild beast, slowly dimming his natural instinct and sending him insane. Letting his head drop once more, he began to cry soft but hard tears.
Don't you see? It is hopeless.
"Go away." he whispered hoarsely. The voice's harsh and ghostly cackle river betted in his mind, causing immense pain. Gritting his teeth, the man bore it stubbornly and refused to give it. Blood began to slowly drip out of his mouth and nose.
Your soul shall be mine, Marnier Candiver, even if it takes ten thousand years of torture.
* * *
The water was hot, but not too hot. Perfect, in fact.
Miri slipped into the tub, and sighed as her weary muscles relaxed. The scented soaps and spices she'd added smelt heavenly, and relaxed her overworked brain. She'd been waiting all day for this, and she's damn well earned it.
Laying there for several long minutes, Miri let her mind wander. She thought of her childhood, full of happy memories of her mother and father, and of her teenage years in the hive college. She thought of all her friends she'd met there, and in particular she thought of Derian. She smiled softly at his memory. She wondered if he still lived in the same place, and made a mental note to check. It would be nice to see him again.
Focusing her thoughts on that young man she once knew, she let her eyes close and a groan of comfort filter through her lips.
* * *
Suddenly stirring from his fit of depression, the massive man jumped to his feet. He'd felt something, something he'd learned to suppress many years ago.
Yes.you hear it too, don't you? You remember that calling, that calling you rejected all those years ago. You can't just stand here and do nothing.can you?
His tear streaked eyes suddenly hardened in hatred, and every muscle in his body tensed. Sweat began running down his face from the exertion he put upon himself, trying to shut the voice out of his head.
"Silence." he hissed. The voice boomed out in laughter, but despite its mirth it slowly faded into nothingness. Relaxing and letting his body sag, the huge man walked towards the door of his apartment.
He would not do nothing, not while he had strength left in his body and soul.
* * *
There was a sharp rap on the door, which shook Miri out of her deep thoughts. Water splashed over the sides of the tub and onto the floor, and Miri cursed softly. Pulling herself out of the ceramic basin, she shivered as the cool and conditioned air of her apartment struck her naked skin. She made a quick mental note to raise the temperature next time she had a bath.
Pulling on a simple white bathrobe, she tied the string and rearranged her hair quickly in the mirror.
Who would be knocking on her door at this time of the morning? Someone important, she assumed, or someone with something important to give or tell her. Either way, it was best to try and look tidy.
Giving up her hurried attempts in the mirror, she moved towards the door just as it was knocked upon again.
"Coming!" she sang out, hurrying across the wooden floor and trying not to get everything wet. Hands moving swiftly, she unlocked the door and removed the latch. Putting on her most friendly smile, she opened the door.
A fairly tall yet un-menacing man stood by the doorway, handsome in a modest fashion and possessing a certain air about himself that suggested a man that bore polite confidence and a sharp intellect.
Miri couldn't suppress a massive wide mouthed expression of joy.
"Derian!" she said softly, cheeks twitching madly with uncontrollable happiness, "you."
"Yes, I've come back, Miri," the man said, smiling softly and sadly, "come back to make right things that should not have happened between us."
"What do you mean?" Miri asked, confusion clouding her face. Derian's smile intensified, become warmer and more soothing.
"For not admitting to you the things that I have felt in my heart for the longest time."
Miri's face streaked with tears of joy, and before Derian could move she had her arms around him tightly.
* * *
He was now once more the Hunter, stalking through the hallways of this metal jungle. As silent as a gentle gush of wind and as swift as a Black Tiger, he avoided all the guards, checkpoints and cameras that protected the people of this great spire-city as if they were not there. He instinctively knew when to move, when to stay, where he was going. He was the Wildthing, and nothing could stop him.
* * *
Miri withdrew from Derian's warm, strong arms and smiled up at him. He smiled back, and she took him by the hands and led him into her apartment. He kicked the door closed with a resounding thud.
* * *
It was close now, he knew it. The voice told him so, but he didn't need the voice anymore. He could smell it, so strong and yet so subtle. He rounded another corner, and narrowly avoided a trio of people walking past by ducking into the shadows. Dawn had come, and the workers were rising and going to work.
Damn, he had hoped he could finish this beforehand, but there was no choice now. He would have to be swift.
Charging out of the shadows, he barged past the trio of workers and knocked one to the ground with a yelp. Angry shouts followed after him, and he knew that the local guards may soon be on his tail.
Turning the next corner he saw the door in the distance, which suddenly slammed shut. Swallowing hard, Wild sprinted for the door as fast as his legs would carry him.
* * *
Laughing, Miri did a small leap in the air. Joy clouded her mind, making her dizzy and dull witted.
Exactly what he wanted.
Smiling grimly, Derian stepped towards her.
She turned towards him, and was about to plant a kiss on his face when she stopped dead. Time slowed to a crawl, every tiny detail suddenly painfully clear.
She saw the knife, the short and thin blade held in her old friend's hand. She saw the cold smile on his face. She saw the sudden glimmer of void in his eyes.
Her mouth hung open and words began spilling out, muddled and incomprehensible pleas. The man merely continued to smile as the blade lashed out.
* * *
Time returned to normal with explosive force. The door, made of a hardened wood from some far off world, smashed off its hinges and collapsed on top of Derian. Pinned to the ground, he couldn't respond to the huge man looming behind him. Head gripped between massive paws, he twisted sharply.
Wildthing stared down at the corpse and spat. The man was definitely dead, his head nigh ripped from his shoulders and his body impaled upon his own blade.
Turning, he saw the girl. She too was totally white, a look of pure horror upon her fair face, stomach torn open and her bodily fluids adorning the floor. A tear formed in his eyes. He'd failed. She was dead.
Falling to his knees, he began weeping once more.
Marnier.Marnier.there was nothing you could have done to stop this.tragedy.
The voice crowed at him, mocking his sorrow, making his defeat even more bitter to bare.
But.
Wild's weeping abated for a second. He looked up, his face red and tear streaked.
"What?" he croaked, blood dripping down from his nose once more.
The voice began laughing gleefully.
Oh? So you'll listen now? Good.I hope you make it a habit, Marnier, for we shall be together for a very long time.
"Can you make this right?" Wild demanded, fire returning to his heart, "can you bring her back, daemon?"
No.but you can. Remember though, that everything has its price.
"Anything." Wild whispered, "anything."
The voice cackled madly.
I ask for nothing, this time. Only believe in yourself, and unlock that which you have hidden. Remember the price, for it shall shape your destiny.
"Silence," Wild demanded, and he was obeyed.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated. The daemon's words burned in his mind, but he tries his best to ignore them and the feeling of utter dread that penetrated his soul. This was wrong.but the lesser of two evils.
He placed his hands upon the dead woman's head, and focused on her. For several long seconds nothing happened. Then, suddenly, pain seared through his mind and jumped through his arms and into the woman. Fire, intense and near uncontrollable, ripped through his very being. Wildthing screamed in pure agony, but did not let go. He could not.
His skin began to strain at the massive energies channelling through his body, and his bones seemed to rattle in their sockets. Spasming, foam discharged out of his mouth and blood streamed freely from his nose, ears and ears. Insane laughter loomed behind the agony.
He couldn't stop. It was beyond his means to control. Far beyond his means.
It ended, pure madness being replaced by pure white in a mere nano- second. His muscles gave out, and Wild collapsed onto the floor- vomit spewing out of his mouth and nose, mingling with the blood of three people.
Just before he blacked out, two figures appeared in the corner of his eye. Advancing quickly, they were on Wild before he could even think of responding. A baton came crashing down on his skull, giving him a release from the pain.
"Witchcraft," hissed one of them, glaring down at the massive man on the ground, "only one thing to do with scum like this."