In the Eyes of Men
by FalconWind
(A/N: General Harrington speaks with an english accent and with english pronounciation (ie. lieutenant=lef-tenant) Similarly, Colonel Kamerov speaks with a slight russian accent. Admiral Tokugawa speaks with a slight Japanese accent and Captain Ross with a no recognisable accent whatsoever.)
Chapter Five
"To Heed the Call"
Imperial Guard Garrison GSI4452-X5593 (Venerable Base), Minos Corva, Tellaris System
General Harrington's office was a fairly classical affair. The walls were wood panelled, the floor covered in lush maroon carpet, and his desk was made of oak from Earth. The entire room was feebily lit by his desk lamp, the kind with the green glass shield. It was thus quite hard to make out the various antiques that nonetheless stood proudly in every corner of the room.
Behind Harrington's desk, where he now sat engrossed in an ancient copy of The Collected Works of William Shakespeare, were the proud Imperial Banners standing guard at his windows, which looked out to the moon-lit ocean. Beside his desk, was the glass case which normally held the large leather-bound book which he now read for the 800th time.
To the right, opposite the case, was a bust of Napoleon Bonaparte, an ancient legendary commander of Earth's distant past.
Lining the walls were bookcases, literally full of all manner of literature. Interspaced among the books were other family heirlooms. An ancient english broadsword, an old american cavalry sabre, an antique Colt 1911A1 Pistol, were among his most prized possesions.
There was no doubt to anyone who knew General James Harrington, that he was a soldier, albeit a learned one. He wore his usual semi-dress uniform, with his cap close-by. But hanging by the door were his combat fatigues and las-pistol, ready to go at a moments notice.
Harrington was on the last verses of A Midsummer Night's Dream when he was interupted by a knock on the door. He read to the end of the line before answering. "Yes?"
The door opened, and a young man poked his head through. "General, Colonel Kamerov is here to see you."
Harrington glanced at his watch, he had lost track of time. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Send him in, would you?"
"Yes, sir."
The door opened further, and the colonel stepped in. The man was quite tall, and had a tan face with a neatly trimmed mustache. He walked briskly, and with his cap now tucked under his arm; all exactly as a proper officer should.
However, once the door had closed behind him, the colonel tossed the cap on the general's desk, and flopped into one of the chairs that was in front.
At this, the general did not object, but rather chuckled. "Tough day, Alexi?"
The colonel rubbed his temples "You have no idea. Was it you that scheduled the day-long exercises?"
"No, I believe that was the commissar's idea. He mentioned the fact that he thought the men could do better."
"That overzealous idiot. The men have never been better. In fact, I doubt the Cadians could do better!" Kamerov stood, "By all rights, these men should all be storm troopers!"
"Calm down, Alexi, that's an order," he said moving to the small liquor cabinet in the corner. "Here, you'll feel better after a drink. Brandy all right?"
"Yes, thank you, sir."
As he poured the drinks, he continued. "You are quite right, Alexi; they are indeed exceptionally trained. I would trust any one of my men with my life, but I myself am interested to see if they CAN become better." Harrington presented the drinks.
Kamerov accepted the glass. "It's just that I resent this commissar, General. He is within his authority, but... he has no right!... If you know what I mean, sir."
Harrington nodded, sipping his glass. "Kamerov, you're the most loyal officer I have ever met, but you shouldn't let that loyalty get you in trouble. He is within his authority, and any hostility towards him will not be tolerated by the Imperium, or me for that matter."
"I know, sir. But you have done so much, it is hard to not respect you in the most reverant way." He took a sip of the brandy. "This is good, sir, where is it from?"
"Carris V," he replied. "It's terrible, Kamerov."
Kamerov re-evaluated the drink once again. "I know my brandies, sir. This is quite good."
To this Harrington shook his head. "Trust me. Brandies have gotten worse over time. Especially when those who make it have no idea what it's supposed to taste like."
"If you say so, sir."
"Besides," he said, changing the subject, "the men can use the practice. And if you can't handle a simple all-day training exercise, perhaps you should join me in the gym."
"Perhaps I will. I have been feeling a bit sluggish lately."
Just then, the comm. unit on Harrington's desk beeped loudly. Harrington answered it. "Yes?"
It was the lieutenant just outside. "General, there is a communication for you, but I don't know who from."
At this, Harrington raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? How can you not know who is calling?"
"Sir, the signal has no originator. Shall I alert security?"
"No, put it through," he insisted.
"Yes, sir."
There was a brief pause.
"Who is it?" asked Kamerov.
"I have no bloody idea. No originator." The line became active again. "This is General Harrington, who is this?"
There was no answer for a moment. "/The Shadows Call/," was the slow whispered reply. "The time has come. You are summoned. The call is given. Go to the planet Heram in the Vertolli System./" Then the line went dead.
It took a few moments for Harrington to realize he had dropped his empty glass. He looked over to Kamerov, who had a most concerned look on his face. Harrington put the reciever down slowly.
"Who was that? James, what is it?"
Harrington swallowed. "The call has been given. The Shadowatchers are needed."
It again took moments before Kamerov grasped what he had been told. "Are you serious?"
Harrington only nodded absently.
"But- but the Shadowatchers haven't been called upon for ten millenia! We're part of the Imperial Guard now! We can't just leave!"
"We can, and we will, Alexi. We have been waiting for the call for one hundred generations, we cannot ignore it."
Kamerov signed resigningly. "I know, sir. To tell you the truth, sir, I'm afraid. Mostly afraid of the Imperium."
"You'd be a damn liar to tell me otherwise, Alexi. And I can give you no immediate comfort in our quest, except that it is worth dying for." He sat back behind his desk. "And people will die."
"At least they will die knowing it was for a cause they believe in," offered Kamerov.
"The irony of that, Alexi, is that no matter what side that man may be on, it will probably be true. Our people have only ever faced a challenge of this magnitude once before, we succeeded, but just barely. Let us hope that fortune favours the foolish this time."
He picked up the comm. unit. The officer outside answered. "Lieutenant, get me the recording of that last transmission. And also connect me with Admiral Tokugawa aboard the /Redoubtable/."
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Imperial Navy Dockyards AVL235-T441P (Corona Station), Minos Corva, Tellaris System
Admiral Tokugawa was acutely aware of the persistent vibrations under his feet and the ever-present hum of the Luna-class Cruiser around him. Even after his countless years aboard various spaceships, he never stopped feeling it. At first, it had been an annoyance, but after a few years, one must accept it as a cost of living on a starship, or risk going insane. As such, it didn't bother Admiral Tokugawa at all, but he had not forgotten it. Everything about his environment reminded him that he was onboard a spacecraft, with the deadly vacuum a mere bulkhead away.
The walls were a dark metal grey throughout the ship, except in the officer's compartments, where they were usually panelled, upholstered, or at least painted rich, regal colours. His quarters were one such room.
The decorum of the room quite literally matched those suitable for a man of his rank and position. The bulkheads were covered in detailed wood panelling, and the desk was also made of wood. But while the desk was a perfect replica of a hand-carved 'Flourentine', circa 22nd century, the panelling was a part of the ship, and was simply painted and textured aluminium sheeting.
Unlike Harrington, Tokugawa's family had not carried half their history with them to Minos Corva. All he had now, after so long away from his family's birthplace, was a few diaries, books, and a Katana which bore his family name. But he was in no way ignorant of his history. His family, like Harrington's had fought in Earth's World War Two, but where the Harringtons gained honour, the Tokugawa clan had been disgraced.
Of course, all that was a long time ago, and Harrington had no part in his family's shame. And besides, the Tokugawa clan had long since reclaimed their honour by helping Minos Corva when it had been in the most dire of circumstances.
Admiral Tokugawa was fiercely proud of his Japanese heritage, and surrounded himself with many things Japanese in taste. Though, it was indeed hard to find the Japanese culture. Indeed Harrington had discovered that about his own British heritage. As the domain of man had expanded, so had the distances from home. Planets, as a whole, tended to be rather homogenous in cultural make-up.
For instance, on Minos Corva, there was hardly a person that knew what a Bonsai Tree was. And indeed, the 'Bonsai Tree' that Admiral Tokugawa now tended to, was not a Bonsai Tree at all, but a plant native to Minos Corva.
It bewildered many of his subordinate officers how he could spend all evening carefully trimming the small plant. He had simply explained "it as a spiritual activity that hones the focus of one's mind, and extends the patience of one's heart". That explanation, however accurate, only succeeded in getting him a none-to-comfortable look from the /Redoubtable/'s Commissar. With the way they acted, the admiral wondered if any of them had lives outside of the imperial doctrine.
Tokugawa had been engrossed in the care of his psuedo-bonsai tree for several hours straight, when he was interrupted by the insessant call of his communicator. He activated the small device pinned to his collar. "Tokugawa here."
"Admiral, we are receiving a communication from an unknown source. It is tagged for you, but there is no originating tag. What shall I do?"
"Put it through, Lieutenant."
"Yes, Admiral."
There was brief static in the room, then silence. "This is Admiral Tokugawa, commander of the Imperial Cruiser /Redoubtable/. Who am I speaking to?" he asked.
There was no answer for a moment. "/The Shadows Call/," was the slow whispered reply. "The time has come. You are summoned. The call is given. Go to the planet Heram in the Vertolli System./" Then the line went dead.
The admiral was stunned. /The Shadows Call?/ he thought. /After all this time, they finally need us again./
Numerous things raced about his mind. He though about the quest, his men, the Imperium. And all these things would indeed need to be further evaluated. However, a small smile crept on to his face. "Finally, the Shadowatchers are needed again."
Tokugawa opened a channel to the bridge. "Captain Ross, could you please come to my quarters, it's urgent."
"Right away, sir."
"Sir," the voice was that of the 2nd Officer, "we're recieving another transmission."
"Does this one have an origin tag?" he asked.
There was a pause as the officer checked. "Yes, Admiral, it is from General Harrington. This signal is definately from Venerable Base. All the codes check out, sir."
"Fine, put it though, please."
"Yes, Admiral."
Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Come!"
The door opened, and a middle-aged caucasian man with a beard stepped in. "Admiral, you wanted to see me?"
"Indeed. I-." he was interrupted by the comm. line becoming active.
"Matsu? It's James," the voice of General Harrington announced. "You might not believe this but-."
"Yes," he interjected, "I already know."
"Then you got the signal as well."
"What signal?" asked a confused Captain Ross. "Does this have to do with the strange communication, Admiral?"
"Yes, it does, Nathan," answered Tokugawa. "The Shadowatchers have been called for."
At this, the captain stiffened. "I see. I take it we are to heed the call?"
"It has been quite a long time, but yes I believe so. James?"
"I, for one, had full intention of following their wishes. The debt must be repaid."
At this Tokugawa nodded, then added, "that's right, James."
Captain Ross nodded. "Then what of Naval Commissar Steinbech?"
"What about him, James?" Tokugawa asked Harrington for his opinion. "What are we to do with our Imperial watchers?"
"Well, we have several options when it comes to getting rid of them," responded Harrington. "I find it highly unlikely that they would wish to come with us."
"Very highly unlikely, James. They are not part of the Circle." The admiral spoke of the association of all those who would heed the call.
"Kamerov is very much in favor of tying them naked to trees out in the forest," Harrington said, mirth in his voice.
At this, all officers laughed.
"Actually," Ross said, "that gives me an idea."
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The mood was grim as Horandrin and Daleon walked through the corridors of the fortress. One glance at them was enough to see that they were walking with determination in their eyes and quickness in their feet. As they walked down the hallways, overhead lamps would catch their figures for fleeting moments, highlighting them with a brillant glint of polished blue and gold armour. But they trotted at such a pace that as soon as they stepped into the light, they were cast back into the darkness just as quickly, only their eyes shining through the shadows.
Finally they arrived at their destination. The place of the 'trouble' as Daleon has so specifically described. The room they stood in front of was marked 'Storage C-12'.
Daleon knocked on the plain steel door in a very specific manner. Obviously, those inside wanted to know just who was requesting admittance.
Horandrin wondered, though, who would knock on a door leading to a storage closet in the first place?
The sound of locks being unlatched preluded the opening of the heavy metal door.
The scene inside made Horandrin wish he hadn't come. Daleon was right, it WAS trouble.
In the middle of the room, flanked by two marines, was another marine almost comically tied up and bound to a chair. His eyes were covered by a makeshift blindfold, and his vocalizer was covered by blindfold/gad-like cover to surpress his protests. Another marine lay still on the floor, a large chunk cleaved from the upper torso, taking the upper chest and head from the armour that was all that was left of the unfortunate Thousand Son. The armour was, of course, empty, save for the trace of dust that lined the inside. That marine would never rise again.
Horandrin, at the moment, didn't know whether to rage, sigh, groan, or cry. Or perhaps even laugh at the obsurd spectacle of a bound and gagged chaos marine. He settled on a groan. "I cannot believe this is happening," he said shaking his head in defeat. "Nothing is ever as easy at it seems," he said to himself. He calmed himself with a few techniques learned from a long deceased wise man. Perhaps he shouldn't have killed him, he'd probably know what to do. "What happened here?"
Daleon now explained the situation with more detail. "A few of our men were talking a bit too freely, it seems. They were confronted, and... well, the results are obvious."
Horandrin thought about the implications of this occurance. They were running out of time. They had to leave, and soon. If not, their hope would soon die, just as they would. "Does anyone else know of this?"
"Not yet. But that will undoubtably change quickly. We must leave this planet, Horandrin. We must leave Heram, before we never leave."
"Master Horandrin, what should we do with him?" asked one of the guards.
A silence stretched for a moment until Horandrin finally answered. "Just make sure he doesn't escape."
"If he does?"
"Shoot him."
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Well it seems that this story is coming along nicely. Might be losing the more action oriented readers. I'm considering revising the genre info since it has evolved into something different. BTW, it should be obvious that the Thousand Sons that are following Horandrin are no longer like the typical Chaos Marine. Also, with the inclusion of the Imperial battlefleet I am going into yet more uncharted territory.